When a Curse is Not a Curse
by Shareon
Summary: Miwako Satou, the orphan woman officer in the Tokyo Police Division 1, is well-known for her high degree of physical fitness, her low tolerance of drink, her high appetite of food, and her low amount of feminine modesty. What is less known is her curse-filled childhood, and how it made her uniquely qualified to understand the equally mysterious Conan Edogawa.
1. Chapter 1: Question

Title: When a Curse is Not a Curse

Author: Shareon

Summary: Miwako Satou, the orphan woman officer in the Tokyo Police Division 1, is well-known for her high degree of physical fitness, her low tolerance of drink, her high appetite of food, and her low amount of feminine modesty. What is less known is her curse-filled childhood, and how it made her uniquely qualified to understand the equally mysterious Conan Edogawa.

* * *

Chapter 1: Question

Conan Edogawa followed behind Wataru Takagi on the long walk through the Tokyo police headquarters to the Division 1 section. He had been summoned, along with the other Detective Boys and Hiroshi Agasa, to provide some extra details about the recently solved Castle Case. Back when he had been a seven-year-old in reality and not merely in appearance, a visit to the Tokyo police headquarters was an eye-opening once-in-a-lifetime event. Now, on his involuntary second trip through childhood, he had already visited the building so often in the past that it would have been difficult for him to care less about the sites. What he really wanted to do was to sneak a peek at the files of unsolved cases undoubtedly scattered throughout the offices. As that wasn't possible, he had to content himself with listening to the deductions that Ayumi Yoshida, Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya, and Genta Kojima made regarding the junior police inspector who was leading them around.

Each of the genuine children's observations, and the natural conclusions they led to, gave Conan a surprising stab of pride. He knew Ai Haibara had figured things out. She might have been a scientist by trade, rather than being a detective, but she was also a very observant and smart teenager-turned-child like Conan himself was. However, Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko were ordinary elementary school children. The fact that they had been able to make such deductions was quite impressive, and proof that Conan's tutelage was actually bearing results. With some time and experience, they could possibly become passable teenage detectives.

Conan's mind shied away from the thought that he and Haibara might need to join them on that path to adulthood. He earnestly longed for the chance to regain his true form. Haibara was still searching for a cure for the ATPX-4869 poison, but thus far she had had very little success in her experiments. Conan consoled himself that she had only been working on a cure for a few weeks so her lack of results was to be expected, but in the darker nights, he feared that she might never succeed; that he'd be stuck going through a decade of dull classes and adults supervising his every move; that he'd have to experience the miseries of puberty all over again; that Ran Mouri would one day forget about the ever-missing Shinichi Kudo and move on with her life, completely ignorant of the fact that he was right under her nose, forever out of reach.

Agasa, completely ignorant of Conan's brooding, was in the middle of offering to setup Takagi with one of his cousins when Miwako Satou entered. Conan recognized her immediately. She was the female detective from the Stadium Case they had recently solved, wherein somebody had taken an entire soccer stadium hostage. Meeting her here was not at all surprising. They were in the middle of the Division 1 office, so meeting any member of that group would be entirely expected.

The weeks since their first meeting had done nothing to change the woman. She was just as strange as the first time Conan had seen her.

Satou's physical appearance was almost unique in a country like Japan. Her vivid red hair, cut in a very functional pixie cut, suggested a potential Irish background, although that supposition was clearly in conflict with her decidedly Japanese name. Beyond her physical appearance, though, was her profession. She was working in Division 1 as an Assistant Police Inspector, rather than as a more traditional Office Lady. It was downright rare for a woman to be both interested in as well as capable of handling direct confrontations with armed and violent criminals. If Satou's appearances were anything to go by, though, she was more than prepared for the challenge. Her athletic physique and graceful movements were more than slightly reminiscent of Ran and her fellow karate students.

"Takagi-san, who are these people?" Satou asked. "If they're lost, you should bring them to the normal investigation bureau."

Takagi's reaction to Satou's entrance was almost comically dramatic. It was another piece of evidence, which Conan automatically classified and combined with the expansive body of knowledge he had already gathered. Takagi's reaction, plus his earlier protests to Agasa that he already liked somebody, led Conan to the natural conclusion. Barring further evidence, it was safe to suppose that the woman Takagi liked was Satou.

"They're not lost," Takagi tried to say. However, he was immediately overridden by the babbling of the children.

"Who's the lady?"

"Why are you blushing?"

"I get it, she's Takagi-keibu's girlfriend." The last point had been said by Mitsuhiko. He had come to the same conclusion as Conan, but had not yet developed the tact to keep the observation to himself. Learning discretion was another important trait for a detective. People revealed themselves in countless ways every day, and it was the height of cruelty to unnecessarily expose them.

"You're allowed to bring your girlfriend to work?"

Satou interrupted them all by saying, "I'm Miwako Satou! I'm an inspector for Division 1." She then turned to Takagi, and asked "Who are they?"

Her simple declaration of identity was enough to add more fuel to the growing mystery that was Miwako Satou. She not only looked odd and worked in an odd job, she spoke strangely as well. She had introduced herself using the very informal "ore," and Conan was certain that he hadn't heard her say a single "wa" or "kashira" at the end of one of her sentences thus far. For a woman, such speech was flagrantly crass.

It was looking like Satou had not in fact been a child born in Japan, as any girl growing up surrounded by native Japanese speakers would naturally have learned a much more polite vernacular. The most plausible explanation for her sloppy speech was that she was a foreigner who had been taught Japanese by a very odd man.

However, that explanation didn't feel right, either. Satou appeared to have practically a native-level of fluency, and she had no discernible foreign accent in her voice. Conan couldn't imagine how anybody could develop that level of proficiency without years of practice with multiple people. Assuming she was foreign-born and had studied the language rather than being born in to it, standard speech must have come up at some point; it was the most common vernacular to teach foreign students of Japanese. Therefore, it was presumable that Satou had intentionally chosen to learn an informal speech pattern for some unknown reason. However, if it had been a conscious choice of hers, then that re-raised the possibility that Satou was in fact a native-born child of Japan. Additionally, it opened the new question of why she was intentionally speaking in such a distinctive and rude way.

The open thread of inexplicable mystery nagged at Conan's detective instincts like a hangnail which scratched him every time he moved his fingers. He desperately wanted to rip out the annoyance that the unknown question represented. Almost against his will, his thoughts kept looping over and over, rehashing the few concrete details he had and trying to force them together into a deduction which made sense.

* * *

Something about the five children struck Miwako as familiar. She was sure that she had seen them before, but that didn't narrow things down very much. Miwako had lost count of the number of children she had seen throughout her career in the Traffic Bureau. If she never had to give another cross-walk safety lecture, it would still be too soon.

"They're the witnesses in the Castle Case," Takagi answered Miwako's question.

The Castle Case was the weird crime which had been the talk of the office for the past few days. The culprit had gone to extraordinary lengths, including getting plastic surgery to disguise his identity, in order to steal an invaluable fortune. Unbeknownst to the would-be thief at the onset, though, that invaluable fortune had ultimately proven to be merely a scenic view.

There had been five children involved with that escapade, and Takagi had been asked to help tie up the loose ends of that case. All of it fit together to explain why the Division 1 office had been invaded by the chatty children.

That didn't do anything to explain why they looked so familiar, though.

"These are those kids who helped in that case?" Miwako asked.

"Yes. They made the suspect give a full confession and everything. There are just a couple more details I needed from them to finish the report," Takagi said.

One of the children, the girl who was the shortest of the five of them, interjected, "Ah! I remember. You were there during that soccer competition case, weren't you?" She wore a striped pink dress, and her yellow hair band kept her moderate-length hair from blocking even a fraction of her face.

It was at that prompting that Miwako finally made the connection as to why the children, and especially the boy with glasses, looked so familiar. She had briefly met them back in that hostage case at the soccer stadium. She said, "That's right. You're those kids who were being all nosy, aren't you?"

"We weren't being nosy. We were helping the inquiry," one of the young boys said. He was by far the largest of the five of them, both in height as well as in girth. His short buzz cut conspired with his stocky build and gray clothing to make him appear not unlike a huge walking artillery shell.

Only three of the five children were actually talking. The two others stood in the back, staying silent and out of the way. It was entirely unlike what Miwako had learned to expect from children. Back when her job had included community outreach assignments and other duties which brought her in frequent contact with the general public, she had met enough children to know how excitable they acted around police officers. They typically acted very much like the two boys and girl clamoring around Takagi did, like a particularly hostile internal affairs investigation panel. They did not act like the silent boy and girl who were quietly observing the scene from the back.

It wasn't just their quiet behavior which stood out and grabbed Miwako's attention, though. Something about them put her on edge and forced her eyes to keep glancing at them for any sign of danger. They weren't a threat in the sense that an incoming dagger was threatening, but it was the same feeling she got before a seemingly ordinary man turned out to be a grandmaster of some ridiculous field like martial arts contract bridge.

The boy with glasses was by far the most ominous. He was only fractionally taller than the girl in the pink dress, but he held himself with a confidence unheard of in most adults, let alone in an elementary school child. It wasn't arrogance, bravado, or any other false emotion. He merely had the unflappable certainty of a master. It was enough that Miwako would have hesitated if he challenged her to do anything.

The brunette girl standing next to him was not to be trifled with, either. Her face had the flawless look of either fantastically lucky genes or a subtle makeup expert, and her trendy clothes gave the impression of a child model. Beneath her careful grooming, though, there was a sharpness in her eyes. It was a bit too similar to the look Nabiki Tendo had whenever she approached with a "little favor to ask." It was as if she knew things you didn't know, and moreover, she knew she knew things you didn't know.

However, if either of those strange children were martial artists, they held their skills hidden so well that Miwako could find no trace of them whatsoever, except for the ineffable feeling she got from them.

The odd boy and girl weren't talking, so Miwako was more than happy to leave them be and exchange banter with the three more ordinary children. She also took the opportunity to confirm with Takagi that Yumi Miyamoto hadn't said anything substantial about their visit to the bar last night. Her former partner from the Traffic Bureau had tricked her into having a drink, and the rest of the night after that had been a fuzzy blur. Miwako had the vague feeling she had said something she shouldn't have, but she couldn't quite remember what it might have been.

Miwako's casual chatting continued until a uniformed police officer arrived and announced that the 53-year-old Keizo Masuo was here for Miwako. He was an expected appointment. Much like how Takagi was following up on the Castle Case, Miwako had been tasked with following up on a recent bank robbery case. That was where the similarity ended, though. The bank robbery was an active investigation, and her inquiries were far more than mere formalities.

"Isn't your wife coming too?" Takagi asked the bank manager, putting voice to the question Miwako had just been thinking about.

Masuo was every bit as bulky, formal, and stiff as his bank. The effect was only slightly marred by his anxious checking of his wristwatch. In response to Takagi's question, he said, "She isn't here already? Let me try calling her."

The phone call Masuo made was a bit odd, but it wasn't anything too special, until a scream came through the tinny speaker of the handset. It caught everybody's attention, even the children's.

As the ranking police officer, Miwako took charge of the situation. She ordered, "Takagi-san. Get the mobile unit ready. I'm getting the car."

"Yes," Takagi acknowledged.

The two inspectors broke and went their respective ways. Miwako had retrieved the car keys in a moment, met up with Takagi and Masuo at the entrance of the garage in two, and was speeding along the road with sirens blazing in three.

It was something of a rite of passage for newcomers in Division 1 to survive a trip to an ongoing crime scene with Miwako. She had always loved speed, and that naturally extended to cars as well: the feeling of power under her feet, and that moment of drifting pull as she coaxed the car into an almost-but-not-quite skid around the corners. She did love to drive full-out, but rarely got the chance to do so outside of an emergency. This situation definitely qualified as an emergency, and Miwako took full advantage of the opportunity.

Both Masuo and Takagi clutched at the hand holds of the car as she drove.

Along the way, Miwako and Takagi talked to Masuo to learn what they could of the situation. They were well into a discussion of whether Masuo had any potential enemies or recent suspicious activities to report when the three of them were interrupted. One of the boys from Takagi's Castle Case interview poked his head out between the two front seats, giving them all a jolt of surprise. He was the quiet boy with glasses, although he now spoke up, saying, "I don't think it was a burglar. She was on the phone, and if it was a burglar, she would have said something."

"The kid? When did you..." Takagi exclaimed. He grabbed the boy before he could cause any more trouble. Once the boy was in hand, Takagi asked Miwako, "What should we do with him?"

Miwako wanted to yell at Takagi for letting the boy tag along, but she couldn't really accuse him of doing anything wrong; she had also been distracted enough to not notice the boy sneaking in. Regardless of how they had ended up in this situation, though, the responsibility of what to do now fell to her.

If this were an assault in progress, or worse a murder, seconds could make all the difference. Even if it were a more benign crime, getting to the scene as quickly as possible was critical in an investigation. In mere minutes, potential witnesses would forever vanish from the crime scene, footprints would degrade or be covered, and ignorant civilians would happily remove evidence for the sake of cleaning up the mess.

"There's no time to turn around. We've got to get to that woman," Miwako said.

She settled for channeling her feelings of annoyance into pushing the car's accelerator to the floor and squeezing a bit more speed out of the vehicle. The pale face and whitening knuckles of the boy were a meager consolation for the trouble he caused, but they were something.

The bank director's house did in fact turn out to be a crime scene for a murder. Somebody had broken in and stabbed the director's wife in the back with a knife. The minute Miwako discovered that, she called for reinforcements. She and Takagi then began their preliminary investigations. More senior and experienced detectives would arrive shortly, but there was not a moment to lose. It had only been a few minutes, and the culprit could be running away as they waited.

The reinforcements Miwako summoned took the form of several officers, including Ninzabura Shiratori, one of her coworkers in Division 1 who had just been promoted to the rank of a full Police Inspector. He showed up in short order to take command of the investigation. Miwako was more than satisfied to let him. Shiratori was a better detective than both she and Takagi, and a murder was too important to let something like pride get in the way. Everybody on the team knew that she was the best marksman and the best fighter, anyway.

It was at that point in the investigations that Miwako finally learned the boy's name: Conan Edogawa. He claimed to be a detective, even though he was clearly still in elementary school. Miwako thought it was adorable for the young boy to have such an active imagination. That was until the investigation began in earnest, whereupon Conan's imagination rapidly transitioned from being adorable to being annoying.

Conan ran all around the crime scene, showing an attention span more befitting a four-year-old than his real age. He flitted around, darting to whatever shiny thing caught his eye from moment to moment. He was frequently caught up in flights of imagination, and kept distracting all the adults with silly questions and even sillier statements.

"How could the victim have been attacked from behind? There's no door or window there."

"Wouldn't somebody exercising be really sweaty?"

"That's weird looking. On TV, killers always hold a knife either this way... or this way."

Miwako started to notice a pattern. It was ridiculous to actually take the suddenly-hyperactive young boy seriously, but failing to pay attention to things was how she had ended up stuck with a 100,000-yen restaurant bill, trapped in a metal corset unable to eat anything, transformed into a five-year-old child, fighting an immortal phoenix emperor, and any other number of crazy adventures she had had in her youth. She had been amazingly naive and reckless back then, and she had no desire to repeat the mistakes of her childhood.

By the time Conan asked, "Hey, what's a string doing here on this exercise bike's pedal," Miwako had given up on the idea that it was a mere coincidence that he kept stumbling across clues to the case. When Conan demonstrated how a knife could have been hidden by some books on a bookshelf, conveniently using an origami knife he had coincidentally made earlier for fun, she was paying very close attention to the boy indeed. Ignoring a master, even one whose subject of mastery she hadn't identified, was one of the mistakes she never wanted to make again.

The truth of the crime came out in time. Masuo had been the one to hire the robbers of his bank, and his wife had happened to recognize the culprits. He had murdered his wife in order to cover this up, placing a knife on a bookshelf and arranging it so it would fall on her. He had timed things such that the stabbing would take place during his earlier phone call at the police headquarters, thus apparently giving him an alibi. It had been so close to working, except that Shiratori had exposed the truth and forced a confession out of him.

That was what the official report would say, no doubt. On the official report, it was doubtful Conan's presence would even be mentioned. To a passing glance, Conan's naive questions and bumbling around the crime scene had just been the childish antics of a curious and overly-eager young boy. If anybody actually recognized the connection between Conan's interjections and the major breakthroughs on the case, they would have dismissed them as merely fortunate coincidences. Everything just happened to line up right, resulting in the smoothest resolution to a case Miwako had ever seen. At a passing glance, Conan had nothing to do with it.

Miwako passed her own judgment on the case, though: Conan had been at least three steps ahead of her throughout the whole investigation. As much as she respected Shiratori's investigation skills, she thought the boy had been two steps ahead of him as well.

Apparently there was more to Conan's childish fantasies of being a detective than she had initially assumed.

* * *

The investigation into the murder of Kayo Masuo by her husband had concluded quickly. Nevertheless, the time to travel to the crime scene, the time to take formal statements, the time to return to the police headquarters, and the time to finish the preliminary processing of the culprit all added up to a substantial total. It was past 8:00 at night before Conan and Takagi were reunited with the Detective Boys and Agasa. As it was so late, they decided they would need to come back another day to provide their statements for the Castle Case, so the Detective Boys left the office with their original objective unfulfilled.

"See you in class tomorrow, Conan-kun," Ayumi said, waiving goodbye to the boy. Ayumi was the last of the genuine children to leave the group.

"See you tomorrow," Conan said.

He could hardly wait. Another day in class. Another mind-numbingly boring day full of things he had found simple even when he had been a seven-year-old the first time. Sumiko Kobayashi was a good teacher. She knew Conan and Haibara were extremely advanced and already knew everything she was teaching, so as long as they weren't actually distracting the class, she mostly left him alone. That only slightly helped with the extreme ennui he experienced each and every day in school.

The only thing Conan knew for sure was that he was getting lots of practice at handling boredom.

Conan, Haibara, and Agasa waited for Ayumi to enter her house before they proceeded onward.

"Can I visit your house?" Conan asked the moment the door had closed.

"It's getting pretty late," Haibara said. It was nearing midnight. It had taken a while to convince the children that Takagi was in no condition to take their statements that night, and even more time to escort all of the children home.

"Ran-san must be getting worried," Agasa added. They had called Ran at the station, but she couldn't feel comfortable with Conan being out this late.

"Please?" Conan asked. He masked his earnest desire to talk behind the playacting of a child. The Black Organization had eyes and ears everywhere, and he couldn't be too careful.

Haibara and Agasa exchanged glances. The only reason Conan would want to visit their house was if he wanted to talk somewhere where Ran and the others wouldn't be able to overhear, and in this coded exchange, Conan had just emphasized that it was important to talk now.

Agasa was the one to yield and say, "Sure, Conan-kun."

They continued onward through the dark streets. It was far from the busy traffic of the daytime, but it was nowhere near abandoned, either. The various florescent lights around them revealed a group of three drunken men stumbling forward on the other side of the road, and in the distance Conan could hear the shout of somebody complaining about something.

Conan said a sporadic childish line or two as they walked, but they were more half-hearted comments than anything serious. It felt pointless to put on a show for the small groups of revelers and occasional drunkards who dotted the sides of the road. Anybody out this late at night had better things to do than watch a random adult and two children going home. Even so, Conan wanted to take no chances to talk about anything serious until they were safely behind closed doors. He was anxious for that moment, and was sure that Haibara and Agasa were just as curious as to what he wanted to discuss.

The bright entrance light of Agasa's house was a welcome signal that they had arrived. In the darkness of the night, the huge glass windows and curved walls of the building managed to look even more futuristic than in the bright daylight. Regardless of the time of day, though, Conan loved the Agasa home. It represented one of the very few places of true safety, where he didn't have to fear assassins and he could drop the annoying pretenses of childishness.

The door had scarcely closed behind Agasa before Conan turned to Haibara and asked, "What did you think of Satou-keibu?"

Haibara raised an eyebrow. She answered in her normal, cutting tone, "So you noticed too? Her skirt must be from 1990, or maybe '91 at the latest. Her shirt is harder to tell, but I doubt it is much newer than '92."

In retrospect, he shouldn't have been surprised by her observation. One of the few things Conan had learned about the enigmatic Haibara in the short time he had known her was that she had a strong sense of fashion. It would have been interesting to compare her knowledge against Ran's friend, Sonoko Suzuki, the rich socialite. However, he had no desire to try to actually watch such a confrontation. It would have put his elementary school training of withstanding boredom to the test.

Nevertheless, that was not at all what Conan had been expecting Haibara to say, and he was taken aback. It took him a few seconds to process her observations. Once he had, he asked, "Is that unusual?"

"I'll say it is. Anybody fashionable wouldn't have anything older than one year out. Maybe two, if times were desperate."

"I don't get it. If the shirt's still good, then why does it matter how old it is?"

"And that's why you aren't a girl. You asked my opinion, right? So trust me. She's really unfashionable. It's weird, though, it's all custom tailored. You can tell the stitches were done by hand, not machine, and nobody does that anymore except exclusive high-end places. Normally I'd say she was rich, but no fashion designer would ever make something that dull. I'm guessing she's pretty poor and has to hand-sew her stuff to make it last as long as she can."

That did not line up with Conan's own observations. He had only rudimentary knowledge of fashion, but he could tell that Satou's clothes were definitely not worn-out. Moreover, Satou was an Assistant Police Inspector in Division 1, so she had to have at least a reasonable income. It was yet another unanswered question regarding Satou.

Regardless, Haibara's observation was a tangent to his main line of questioning, and why Conan had thought it urgent to talk to her this evening. Conan had to suppress his natural curiosity to instead return to his original point. He said, "Okay, but that's not what I really was asking about. I meant is she a member of the Black Organization?"

Haibara's haughty look of smug superiority vanished in an instant, melting away as a dark cloud seemed to surround her. She snapped her head around in a panic, searching frantically as if an assassin were about to attack. When no assailant showed himself, Haibara turned back to Conan. Her brown bangs had fallen forward, masking her eyes and making the rest of her face that much harder to make out. She asked in a mere whisper, "Why? Do you think she's one of Them? Did she do something?"

"Not exactly. She was just different," Conan said. It was hard for him to put into words what it was. Satou had been watching him closely throughout his most recent case. Too closely. She showed an intensity and persistence worthy of a first-time babysitter. It wasn't merely a matter of watching to make sure a clumsy child didn't spoil an active crime scene, either. Whenever Conan had said something, Satou had actually listened. The amount of attention and credence she had directed at him was intense. It was more than a bit intimidating after all this time of being an ignored seven-year-old. That alone would have been enough to catch Conan's attention. Added to the other irregularities and inconsistencies he had detected in Satou, it was enough to trigger all sorts of flags in the detective's mind.

"Well, I only met a few people in the Organization, but I never heard of anybody like her there. She doesn't 'smell' like one of Them, either. Of course, she could be Vermouth in disguise, but anybody could be Vermouth in disguise," Haibara said. She darted the briefest of glances at Agasa and a slight shudder consumed her small body. Haibara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then was back to normal, or at least as normal as she got when talking about the Black Organization. She concluded by saying, "However, I doubt she's one of Them."

That settled that. If Haibara thought Satou wasn't a member of the Black Organization, then the chances of her being a part of them plunged to become fleetingly small. It wasn't impossible, but it wasn't high enough to warrant thinking about without further evidence. However, just because Satou wasn't a member of the Black Organization was no reason to think she was not interesting, or that she was not extremely dangerous.

Agasa stayed quiet throughout the exchange. He usually did whenever the topic of a mystery, including the Black Organization, came up. Agasa was a genius inventor, but he had neither the knowledge of the Black Organization that Haibara had, nor the talent for detection and deduction that Conan had. Agasa was brilliant, and he was certainly smart enough to know when to stay out of a conversation.

Conan came to a conclusion, if such an indecisive plan of action could be called a conclusion. He couldn't help but pick at the hangnail in his mind. He would do some investigation into this Miwako Satou. At worst, it would be good practice in the fundamentals of detective work. At best, it could save his, Haibara's, Agasa's, Ran's, and everybody else's life.

This led to the natural question of how he was to approach the quandary that Satou represented. He didn't even know her nationality for sure. As Shinichi, he had access to several resources, including but not limited to contacts within the police department itself. As Conan, his resources and ability to move freely were far more curtailed.

He was still debating what approach to take when Agasa dropped him off to the waiting Ran at the front door of their home.

* * *

There was one advantage to the intense boredom of elementary school: it gave Conan a lot of time to think and plan.

What did he know about Satou? He knew about her speech patterns, her physical fitness, her job in Division 1, how she acted around her teammates, her hand-sewn clothing, and her lack of fashion sense. It was a small list, and a paltry start to any investigation.

If he added in the things he speculated based on partial information, his list grew somewhat. It was hard to quantify this type of data, since by definition these were speculations and thus were on a sliding scale of confidence. They ranged from things he was almost positive were true, such as her martial arts abilities, to things which were only slightly more probable than not, such as the theory that her hair color was natural rather than the result of hair dye.

Even this expanded list was dwarfed by the things he knew he did not know. Looming largest in that collection were the questions about what Satou wanted, where she had come from, and why she was interested in him. Most important of all, the question Conan absolutely needed to answer was if Satou was a threat to him and the others.

On the bright side, if Satou was a threat, then there was no reason to think that she was an immediate threat. She had acted with nothing but professionalism during the investigation of the murder of Kayo Masuo, albeit paying him a particular and intense attention. There was no reason to do anything drastic. Conan's investigation could begin at the beginning, collecting the basic information which was the lifeblood of a detective.

Conan spent the rest of class planning out his approach. He would start with a basic records check, searching things like newspapers and magazines for references to Satou. Examining official records like school reports and police files would have been ideal, although as he was no longer Shinichi, that could turn out to be impossible. Asking somebody whose life you had saved two months ago to turn their back for a few minutes in a records room was one thing, but asking that same person on the phone to entrust something to a seven-year-old they had never seen before was quite another.

It would be a slow and tedious process. However, Conan had time. The active searching and puzzling together of details at a live crime scene was much more exhilarating, but background investigation was part of a detective's responsibility, too. There was a reason Sherlock Holmes kept such a vast eclectic library, after all.

Conan had his plan of action all figured out. Once the school day was over, he would go to the library and begin his search. He would need to give some excuse to Ran so he could be escorted there. It was annoying that he had to be supervised wherever he went, but coming up with an excuse would be easy enough. He couldn't imagine any real objection from Ran if he said he wanted to study something.

The moment classes ended, Conan practically leaped to his feet. He was eager to clip the hangnail of mystery in his mind. As he was stuffing papers into his backpack, though, Genta approached. He brought with him the first hints of worry in Conan's heart.

"We're going to go play soccer," Genta said. It was more of a declaration than a friendly invitation.

That was a disappointment. Conan always enjoyed soccer, and it was even fun to just pointlessly kick the ball around like the Detective Boys usually ended up doing. Normally he would have jumped at the opportunity, but this was not a normal time. He had an investigation to do, and he wanted to get started.

"Sorry, not today. I need to go to the library," Conan said.

"Boring," Genta said.

Ayumi walked over to stand next to Conan, and she asked, "What are you doing there, Conan-kun? Can I help?"

The offer made Conan pause. It was tempting. Scanning and cross-referencing old newspaper articles was time consuming in the extreme, and getting more eyes to help would speed up the process immensely. On the other hand, there was the question of whether or not any of the children could keep a secret. It would be an absolute disaster if word were to slip out and Satou found out that she was being investigated. If she did have something diabolic in mind, it could trigger her to act. Even in the best case where she was completely innocent, it would raise her suspicions of Conan. He certainly didn't want anybody paying him too much attention, especially if said attention came from a member of the police. Not only could Satou herself make his life very difficult, even innocent inquiries by the police could create a beacon the Black Organization could follow straight to Ran's front door.

Haibara watched the exchange, and Conan in particular, with interest. However, she remained silent.

"I'm going to do some special research for the new class project," Conan said, quickly trying to piece together a plausible excuse on his feet.

Mitsuhiko stopped still. He hesitantly asked, "Did Kobayashi-sensei assign us a project?" Both Genta and Ayumi shook their heads back to him in response.

"She didn't announce it, but didn't you notice? She's planning one soon, and I'm going to get a head start," Conan said. With his reputation, the children would naturally assume that he had deduced something they had missed. He actually hadn't noticed anything particular from their teacher, but regardless, an upcoming project was always a safe thing to assume. Grade-school teachers always had a next class project in the works to keep energetic children engaged, and Kobayashi was a shining example of good teaching.

"No fair. Tell us what it is," Mitsuhiko said. Of the Detective Boys who were genuine children, he was the one who was most responsible. It was only natural that he would want to get a head start on this imaginary project.

Conan wagged his finger at them. "Ah... ah... ah... You're a detective. You should be able to figure it out yourself."

"Stingy," Ayumi said, stamping her foot down for emphasis. "Ai-san, do you know what it is?"

Haibara looked over at Conan suggestively, and Conan tried to still his racing heart. He wasn't sure what the genius scientist-turned-child would do. If she wanted to, Haibara could ruin his attempts to get away by saying there was nothing the teacher had planned, this giving the children free reign to resume their interrogations. Or Haibara could note that Kobayashi would certainly give them plenty of time to do the project once it was officially assigned to the class, thus robbing Conan of any excuse to avoid joining the Detective Boys for soccer. Or Haibara could suggest that they could find out what the upcoming assignment was by following Conan and spying on what he was doing. She was both mischievous enough as well as contrarian enough that Conan couldn't dismiss any of those possibilities.

On the other hand, Haibara was also both intelligent enough to guess what Conan was planning based on their conversation the previous evening as well as responsible enough to understand the importance of keeping the investigation of a potentially dangerous foe a secret.

Haibara eventually said, "I don't think it matters. If there's a new project, I'll just wait for Kobayashi-sensei to give it to us. I'm sure she'll give us enough time to finish it, and it's a lot easier to work on something when you actually know for sure what the project is." Her answer caused Conan's breath to freeze, and he automatically started imagining several novel curses to shout at Haibara the next time they were alone together. Haibara ignored his stare and continued, "I can think of other stuff I'd rather do than waste time in a stuffy library."

Conan started breathing normally once again, and his heart rate slowed to a more normal pace. He tried to send a telepathic "thank you" to Haibara with his eyes.

Genta said, "Yeah, that's boring. Come on. Let's go play soccer without Conan-kun."

"Yes, let's," Mitsuhiko said.

"O..Okay," Ayumi said.

"I'll pass," Haibara said. Nobody tried to pressure her to change her mind.

Genta, Ayumi, and Mitsuhiko made their way out of the room, presumably to their soccer game. This left Conan and Haibara alone.

Conan finished putting his things away, moving as slowly as he could without appearing suspicious. He was hoping Haibara would volunteer to help him like Ayumi had. There were a lot of documents to review, and unlike the genuine children, Conan knew that Haibara could keep a secret. Conan had no compunction about letting her assist him. He was just waiting for her to volunteer to help.

If Conan outright asked, then Haibara would certainly assist. However, that was only because she knew that Conan would only outright ask if her help was absolutely necessary in his efforts. For better and for worse, at this point, it was not.

"Well, see you tomorrow," Conan said. It was the last chance for Haibara to volunteer to come.

"See you tomorrow," Haibara said, and then went back to deliberately sorting the content of her bag.

Conan nodded and walked away. His records search would need to be done on his own.

The library in the school was comprehensive, but only in the things which would be of interest to an elementary school child. It wasn't even worth Conan's time to visit. For general information, including archives of old newspaper articles, he would need to go to the municipal library.

Convincing Ran to bring him there after he went home wasn't that difficult. He mentioned the same story of a class project for which he needed to do some research, and Ran was only too happy to support his academic efforts. That excuse would quickly wear thin, so after the first couple of days, he would either need to figure out another reason to keep going to the library or to abandon his search. Conan figured he could handle that problem when it emerged.

At the library itself, it was likewise easy to get the assistance of the librarian. The very same story of an undefined school project convinced the librarian to give him access to the archives, and it even earned him some praise for his diligence and dedication. Conan tried to accept it with a good grace that hid the fact it was all a complete lie.

The first real hurdle Conan faced was trying to figure out exactly which kanji characters were used in writing Miwako Satou's name. He solved this problem by making a quick call to the police information line and using another lie. Conan explained that he wanted to send a thank you card to Satou, but that he didn't know how to properly write her name. The operator was only too happy to look up the correct characters to use and provide them to the gracious boy. She even went so far as to describe individual line strokes for the complicated "to" character, which Conan endured with all the patience he could muster.

That was when the real work began. Conan began the long, slow, tedious, scanning of page after page after page after page after page after page after page. A careful balance was required in the effort. Conan needed to go slowly enough that he would recognize Satou's name if he saw it, plus spot any potentially related references to things like the police and Division 1 as well. However, he also needed to skim quickly enough to actually be able to finish everything in a reasonable amount of time. Trying to stay awake was an added challenge to the endeavor. It was an acquired skill.

The first day of searching proved to be rather successful. Conan found a reference in a three-year-old human interest article about a woman police officer who had started working at Division 1. She had previously been working in the Traffic Bureau, but was being transferred due to her past successes. The article was dated to 1991, which set the date when Satou had started working in her current role. It also made for an interesting coincidence with Haibara's assessment of her clothing.

That wasn't the only thing Conan found, either. He also learned that Satou was an orphan. Her parents, Masayoshi Satou and Kikuko Satou, had died 18 years earlier in a traffic accident in 1976. There was an editorial which ranted about how terrible government bureaucracy was, and how it was only with the intercession of Councilman Soun Tendo that the poor girl had been able to navigate through the faceless and heartless system to get the assistance she desperately needed. It continued on, describing how reform was in order. It was full of the bombastic language that tabloids used, but Conan found no other actual facts in the article.

The day could have gone better, but it was far from a poor one. Conan had a bit more information on Satou, and furthermore had three more names and two more dates to add to the search list. He was sure that the next day's search would bring even more.

* * *

Omake:

Miwako Satou had a not-so-secret weakness. It was food. Good food was preferable, but much more important than the quality was the quantity. Anybody who had shared a meal with her would have noticed that she ate such celerity that she would be the first one finished despite the substantial quantity of food she consumed. Anybody with any substantial familiarity with her would have noticed that Miwako ate every meal that way as well.

Yumi Miyamoto certainly qualified as somebody with more than a substantial familiarity with Miwako. It was only natural that she would. They had been partners in the Traffic Bureau for years. That was before Miwako had gotten the opportunity to join Division 1. For most women, such an assignment would have been a daily nightmare. For Miwako, though, the highly-dangerous world of homicides and unregistered weapons was more like a dream come true.

Miwako's former partner's offer to treat her to dinner after work was far too good an opportunity to pass up, and she was only too eager to accept it. Despite the change in jobs, the two of them still kept in close contact. Yumi had been Miwako's first partner, and you never forgot your first.

Dinner was a casual event. Miwako didn't even bother to change clothes after her shift ended, not that she really needed to. One of the advantages of being an Assistant Police Inspector in Division 1 was not needing to wear a uniform while on duty; the only requirement was that she not stand out in a crowd, and even that was more a recommendation than an official rule. Miwako respected the guidance of her supervisor, though. The subtle but significant alterations she had made to the seams and linings of her wardrobe were invisible to all but the most detailed examinations, and her attire would easily blend in to a wide variety of casual and semi-formal settings. Her plain shirt and her matching jacket and skirt certainly matched the ambiance of the casual bar Yumi had selected.

Like Miwako, Yumi had also not changed her clothing after the end of her shift. She still wore her traffic officer's uniform, complete with round hat which somehow managed to draw attention to her bright round eyes in the soft light suffusing the area. Unlike Miwako, this caused her to stand out as prominently as if she had been trying to direct the hoards of cars and pedestrians in the middle of the Shibuya Scramble. Rather than being surrounded by people bustling here and there, though, she was instead surrounded by a swarm of dirty plates. They, and the lingering smell of a half-dozen sauces, were the only evidence left over from Miwako's alacritous eating.

That stream of food, which would be a feast for a more normal person, came to an abrupt end the moment Yumi achieved her ulterior motive of convincing Miwako to try at least one real drink. It had only been one, but it was enough to make Miwako's head feel light and woolly. It felt like it kept wanting to slide away, and Miwako had to keep forcing herself back to a vertical position against the suddenly slippery air surrounding her.

"Is there somebody you like?" Yumi asked. Her eyes showed a sudden keenness, and she was nearly staring at Miwako.

This newfound focus slid past Miwako's notice as gently as the rocking motion of the chair underneath her. Yumi's words had more luck in catching her attention. They, much like Miwako's head, swam around. Everything felt like it was wrapped in a cotton fuzz which blocked out the sharpness, and the whole world somehow felt ethereal.

"Yeah... There's tons of people, I like here. So much better than Neri..Neri..yeah... that place," Miwako's mind slowly caught up to her mouth. Where she had grown up wasn't a secret as such, and any casual check of her files in Human Resources would show where she had graduated from high school. However, she typically tried to keep quiet about it. The fewer people who actively searched there the better. "Wherever that place was," Miwako added. She felt clever for having successfully concealed the truth.

"Really? Who? Is it somebody in the police department?" Yumi asked quickly.

Miwako said, "There's all sorts of people. Like.. like Megure-keibo!" He had become something of a father figure to her, and one who wouldn't sell her for two fishcakes and whatever else. "And Taka-gi-san!" he was one of the detectives junior to her, and one of the few who hadn't yet tried to slip into calling her "Miwako-chan" and forced her to "correct" them. She liked her team well enough, but that honorific was reserved for Yumi, Megure, and a select few others. She might be female, but she was going to be treated with respect. "And Shiratori-san!" He was an interesting one. He was always so confident in his assertions, but he wasn't afraid to back down when he was wrong, too. That wasn't very often, as he was one of the better detectives on the team. "And Miwako!" She had to include herself, of course. It had been difficult at first, but she had finally grown enough to be comfortable with herself. "And Yumi-chan!" The two didn't meet on a daily basis anymore, but she still considered the incorrigibly friendly gossip as her closest friend in the police. "And...

"No!" Yumi interrupted the drunken listing of names. She sighed, and said, "I meant boyfriend-type like. Do you have anybody in the office you like like that?" She spoke casually, but stared with intense focus.

Miwako's head tipped to the side, matching the swirling in her eyes. It took an effort to lift it straight again. She said, "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe not." Even after more than 10 years, she still couldn't quite get over her disgust at the idea of dating a man, let alone marrying one. There was only one person in her heart, and she had no illusions of her chances there. Miwako had long since resigned herself to being single for the rest of her life.

"Okay. But if you are interested in somebody, let me know. I'll help set you up. You're the most popular woman in the force."

"Stop... Now you're stop joking," Miwako said, slapping Yumi's back thrice as she spoke. She knew that Yumi's assertion wasn't true. Maybe Miwako was popular from the perspective of a friend or a partner, but nobody had ever shown her any romantic interest. "Nobody's challenged me yet, or attacked me. You know, out of revenge." She knew from experience that that was how it was done. But upon further reflection, she reconsidered. "No, no, no. That's women, right? How are men showing they interested? Uhh... Has anybody been stalking me? I don't think any... anybody's shouting that they love me has happened." Miwako grabbed Yumi's arm and pulled her close enough so she could smell the alcohol on her breath. "Has anybody been shouting me?"

"Uhh... maybe this wasn't a good idea," Yumi said. It was obvious that that single glass had been far too much. "Come on, let's get you home now."

"And punching, too. Yeah. Nobody's done that," Miwako added. "No. Attacking somebody I look at is only after we're married think, right? Right?"

"That's right. Let's get you on your feet." Yumi dropped a large stack of bills on the table before helping Miwako up. The night had been far from a spectacular success, but at least she had some evidence that Miwako liked somebody, even if she had no idea who that somebody was. Better still, Yumi now had some ammunition she could use to tease Miwako. She giggled to herself.

End Omake.

* * *

Last Updated: May 11, 2018


	2. Chapter 2: Misunderstanding

Chapter 2: Misunderstanding

The early successes from the start of the investigation into Satou quickly came to an end, as did Conan's optimism for some fast and easy answers. If anything, it felt like he was going backwards in his journey of discovery. Page after page of archive print revealed absolutely nothing about her. It wasn't merely the lack of useful information which was annoying; it was the lack of any information about her at all. Conan scanned through countless reports of trade wars, street demonstrations, athletes' injuries, and celebrity scandals. However, he saw absolutely nothing which could be related to Satou except in the most speculative and tenuous ways.

After a week of research, Conan was still left with only the five slivers of information he had stumbled across on that first day: three names and two dates. In ordinary circumstances, that would have been more than enough to get started. Satou's father, the perpetrator of the traffic accident, or any of the other leads should have become the bridge which linked Conan to the Truth. However, against all probabilities, all five of them proved to be dead ends.

It came as no surprise that the date of Satou's transfer from the Traffic Bureau to Division 1 had led nowhere. At its core, it was only an internal administrative function of the police. Such a matter would typically warrant a mere sentence or two in an intraoffice memo, and the presence of an announcement in a public newspaper was more a testimony to the slow news day than the importance of Satou's transfer. There had never been any real hope for that thread.

A much more promising lead was the mention of Councilman Soun Tendo. All politicians had at least some public profile, and it was entirely expected that the man would maintain some ongoing relationship with the orphan girl he had helped during the most trying time of her life. It should have been easy to research Tendo, and through him find out about Satou.

The biggest challenge in learning about Tendo was trying to read past the bombast to find out what were actual facts, what were adroitly-phrased misrepresentations, and what were outright lies. It was no surprise that the reports in the papers were exaggerated. Newspapers always had to sell copy. However, the articles from Nerima strained the bounds of credibility. They made the area sound like a nexus of chaos and violence rivaling anything in the Middle East, rather than being a district in the much calmer and safer Tokyo. The most likely explanation was that there was some political activist in the papers trying to push an agenda, and that made everything Conan read suspect.

Ironically, Tendo's political positions were rather difficult to learn. Conan knew that the Nerima city council were proponents of limited government, and favored a lower tax bill over police and other social services, but there was no breakdown of who had voted for which bill.

Making up for that, Conan was able to learn a substantial amount of his personal life through the minor asides and parenthetical in the various so-called news stories from the area. Apparently Tendo was a master of a school of martial arts called Anything Goes, had a family dojo, had three daughters who had attended Furinkan High School, and had a gaijin niece or illegitimate daughter who had occasionally visited for a few months. More long-term than her, Tendo also played host to several people for extended periods of time, including to another martial artist friend and to an old man. Additionally, Tendo's moral character was apparently in question, with the newspaper periodically accusing him of stealing women's lingerie and other random acts of public disorder. None of the accusations ever seemed to stick, though.

None of the information Conan found about Tendo did him any good, though. It wasn't even worth trying to separate the dross from the valuable information in the pile he had gathered. Besides that initial article describing his supposed assistance to the child orphan Satou, Conan could find no other link between the two of them. Tendo was obviously a real person, but he could have been Prime Minister Hata for all the relations Conan had found between him and Satou. The connection between the two of them was so tenuous that Conan probably could have manufactured an equally convincing one by convincing a lazy reporter to write a short segment about how Tendo had helped him find his missing cat.

The dead end that Tendo represented was disappointing, but it paled in comparison to the lack of results Conan had when searching into the traffic accident which had led to Satou becoming an orphan in the first place. He had been certain that that would have been the spotlight which led directly to the One Truth. The accident was so heart-wrenchingly tragic and so unusual that somebody must have written about it, and any such article must necessarily provide some of Satou's history.

Despite that, though, Conan could find no reference to the events or their aftermath anywhere. It was possible to imagine that Satou's name hadn't been explicitly listed for reasons of child protection, but it strained credibility that Conan could find absolutely no mention of the accident at all. It had left a young girl orphaned; that alone made it a candidate for national news. And if Satou truly had a foreign nationality, such an accident would have caught international attention. However, there wasn't even an allusion to it in the most local of papers.

The coup de gras was Satou's parents. Conan could find nothing on either of them. There was no mention anywhere of Masayoshi Satou, Kikuko Satou, or an announcements of a wedding between the two of them. Conan didn't even know what Kikuko's maiden name had been. It was exceedingly unlikely that both of them would have managed to go their whole lives without some mention somewhere. If nothing else, adopting a gaijin girl would certainly have been unusual enough for somebody to have some opinion on the subject. However, Conan could find neither a heartwarming nor a salacious article describing the event. They were just as ghost-like as Satou herself was.

It wasn't as if Conan had expected a biography of Satou to have been pre-compiled and waiting for him to discover, but he had expected to find something. There could have been an announcement of her participation in a martial arts tournament, or possibly a photograph would have caught her while she explored a cultural festival. Red hair like hers stood out like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. However, there was nothing.

None of it added up. It was clear that Satou existed. Conan had met her multiple times. All of the Detective Boys had met her. However, ignoring that one reference in the news, it was like she didn't exist at all. It was as if she had suddenly appeared one day out of nowhere... or that somebody had systematically erased her history from all records.

Could Satou be a member of the Black Organization? Based on what Haibara had said, it was doubtful, but it was not impossible. Even if she weren't, though, that didn't preclude the possibility that some other organization was involved. If she were affiliated with an organization such as the yakuza and had infiltrated the police, she would still represent a tremendous potential threat. A foreign intelligence officer could represent even more danger, and if she were a member of an evil conspiracy on the scale of the Black Organization, there was no telling the level of danger she represented.

There just wasn't enough evidence to put together any conclusive theory of Miwako Satou. She could just as easily be an agent from Russia that the KGB had planted in Japan as she could be an ordinary woman with some odd interests and a proclivity for privacy.

Regardless, it was becoming increasingly clear that research in the library would not lead to a good outcome. Over the past week, Ran had grown just as suspicious as Conan had become pessimistic. Moreover, he had run out of good reasons to come to the library, and he was halfway through his implausible reasons.

What he needed was something more targeted and reliable than the generic news articles written for public consumption. Birth records, adoption records, school records, employment records. Any of them could be the key to breaking the case wide open. All he needed was one clue to show him where to start. However, he had no access to anything.

Conan paused at that last thought and reconsidered it. It was true that Conan didn't have access to any official records, but maybe Conan didn't need it. He reached over, picked up a phone, and dialed a number he had long since memorized.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hattori," Conan said. At the time, it had both galled him as well as terrified him that he had been forced to confess the truth to the so-called Shinichi of the West. In the long run, though, it had proved to be a good thing. Hattori had turned out to be rather helpful in the most unexpected ways, and his friendly competition whenever their paths crossed always provided some much needed intellectual challenge.

"Hey, Kudo," Hattori said.

Conan winced. The teenage detective in Osaka was as indiscreet as always. As much as he respected Hattori's deductive skills, he knew genuine children who were more subtle than Hattori.

"I need a favor," Conan said.

"Oh? What's up?"

"I need you to look into the police records for somebody," Conan said. It was a risk to involve Hattori, but Conan was out of options. He consoled himself that Hattori could be depended upon to keep a secret when it was really important. Moreover, it was unlikely that any indiscreet rumors would manage to make the long journey from Osaka to Tokyo to reach Satou's ears.

"Woah. Slow down there. Is something wrong? Is this a case? What's the crime?" Hattori asked.

Conan hesitated, and then admitted, "It's not exactly a crime."

"Not a crime? Then what gives?"

"There's this Assistant Police Inspector. Her name's Miwako Satou. I want to find out who she is," Conan said. Even as he spoke, Conan could hear how pathetic his request sounded. He really hoped that Hattori was in a good mood.

"Then check the library or something. There's laws against misusing police records, you know."

"Don't you think I tried that already? She's a ghost. There's an article about her being transferred to Division 1, and that's it. It's like she doesn't really exist."

"So you want me to break the law on a hunch? When there's not even a crime?"

"Come on. Just give me her address. The school she graduated from. Something. Anything," Conan said. All he need was a solid starting point. He could do the rest from there.

"And what am I supposed to tell my dad to get this information? That he should throw his weight around in Tokyo because some kid's curious?" Hattori asked.

Hattori had no problem using his connection to his father when he needed to; it was a perk of being the son of the highest ranking policeman in the Osaka Prefectural Police Headquarters. He had all but bragged to Conan about the number of times he had gone around official channels to solve a case. However, such channels were reserved for when he was trying to solve an urgent case.

"You can tell him Shinichi suggested it," Conan said.

"That wouldn't help. It's not like he really worked with you before. He respects your reputation, but he's not going to put his neck on the line for that alone. Why don't you call up... what's his name... Megure-keibu. I'll bet he'd listen to 'Shinichi.'"

"I can't. It's too big a risk. She's one of his subordinates."

"Sorry. I want to help you. I really do, but I need something to work with here. Give me a reason, any reason, why Osaka should care about this Satou-keibu person and I promise to get you everything."

"Okay. Thanks anyway."

"Later."

Conan hung up the phone with more force than was strictly necessary. He couldn't really fault Hattori and his stubborn refusal to help. Releasing police records to the public was a very big deal, especially when the records had to do with a member of the police force itself. As much as he wanted that information, he couldn't honestly say that if he were in Hattori's position that he would have obliged such a request.

So Conan needed some reason why Osaka should care about Satou. That was useless. If he knew why Osaka should care about her, then he would be well on his way to solving the mystery and wouldn't actually need Hattori's help anymore. The neatness of the paradox left Conan feeling especially bitter.

* * *

"Got it. So I take a left right at the first intersection, then right at the second intersection I turn left and go straight until I take the right right at the end of the road." The man's voice filled the entire room. It was as robust as his figure. Well-defined muscles rippled beneath his dusty short-sleeve tunic. He was distinctly out of place in the modern and spotless police lobby.

In contrast to the man's powerful declaration, the more modest answer from the receptionist did not carry nearly as far. Not withstanding of that, the man's reply was as loud as his earlier statements. He pointed directly at a wall to the side, and asked, "So I should just go straight that way?" His question bounced off the hard tile, and was just as clear to the three officers passing through the area as it was to the uniformed woman behind the counter.

Miwako didn't recognize the man's appearance, but she had more luck placing the voice. The familiar sound provided her with enough of a hint to make the connection to the man's identity. He had grown considerably since the last time she had seen him, both in musculature as well as facial hair. The scruffy mustache and beard on his face somewhat masked his identity, but he was certainly Ryouga Hibiki. It was a callback to a bygone era which had somehow managed to be both simpler as well as infinitely more complicated than her adult life.

Ryouga popped into her life every so often, albeit unpredictably and infrequently. It was always he who had run into her. She never looked for the man. It wasn't as if she had anything to talk to him about. Miwako knew nothing of raising pigs and farming, and Ryouga hopefully knew nothing of smuggling and murder.

This latest happenstance meeting was the only thing which saved the receptionist, not to mention the police headquarters itself. The eternally lost man's fortress of misdirection was forever impervious to all assaults of instruction, and he was both literal enough as well as strong enough to actually go straight through the walls. While the police lobby could use many things, human-sized holes in the walls was not one of them.

Miwako interceded before Ryouga could put his words into action. She called out from across the room as she ran over to him, "Hold it, Ryouga!"

Ryouga looked around in confusion before spotting her rushing towards him. He asked, "Miwako? What are you doing here in Sapporo?"

"We're in Tokyo," Miwako said flatly. After the first dozen encounters with Ryouga, it was impossible to be surprised with him merely being wrong about which island he was on. The man could get lost in a room with only one door, and leave behind a shattered wall from an imprudent use of a bakusai tenketsu attack as the only proof that he had once been there.

"I'm in Tokyo? Why didn't you tell me?" Ryouga shouted at the receptionist.

All of the extensive training the receptionist had received had never found it necessary to teach that when giving directions, one should clarify which city, island, and country the visitor was currently in. It did suggest a single universal answer for all complaints, though. She said, "I'm very sorry, sir."

Ryouga barely noticed it. He clenched his fist, and said, "Then I'm close. I can still get there in time. Tell me, where is The Golden Garden?"

"You mean the hotel?" the receptionist asked. A haunted look of fear returned to her face.

"Relax. I got this," Miwako said as she waived off the receptionist. She knew better than to launch yet another volley of directions at Ryouga. It would be an exercise in futility. Rather than doing that, Miwako had a better idea. Ryouga almost never got lost when he could see his target, and the offices of Division 1 gave a perfect view.

Miwako said to Ryouga, "Come on, I'll show you."

The musky smell of the unwashed man hit Miwako's nose as she grabbed at Ryouga's hand. It was clear evidence that he still spent more time camping on the roads than in a place with a bath. Miwako paid it no mind. She had been on too many multi-year training trips to be offended by the smell of body odor ever again, and it was positively benign compared to the smell of some corpses she had been forced to examine over the years. She instead kept a firm grip on his hand as she led him to the nearby bank of elevators.

The physical contact with the much taller man was a pragmatic necessity. The only part of Ryouga's sense of direction that could be trusted was his ability to get lost. He had lost track of people he been following when they turned a corner a few seconds before him, which was something she had taken advantage of more than once in their frequent fights in the past.

For his part, Ryouga submitted to Miwako's treatment with a mixture of reluctance and resignation, not unlike a boyfriend being dragged on a shopping trip by his girlfriend.

"So what's at The Golden Garden?" Miwako asked as she pressed the button to summon the elevators. One of the doors immediately slid open with the quiet slide of metal against metal.

"Akari-chan's taking a vacation in Tokyo. She told me to meet her there at noon to watch some parade," Ryouga said. They both stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind them just as smoothly as they had opened.

"She asked you to meet her there? Hasn't she learned by now that you got no sense of direction?" Miwako asked. There was only the slightest of shudders as the elevator began moving them up between the floors.

"I'm not that bad."

"Uhh... Sapporo?" Miwako asked. She continued to hold Ryouga's hand throughout the elevator ride. It might have been a closed room suspended in the air, but past experience had proven how quickly things could go wrong with Ryouga in an inattentive moment.

"It's not my fault. They should label the islands."

Miwako let the excuse hang in the air. Ryouga's explanation had no valid rebuttal. She instead changed topics, and asked, "So how is your wife doing then?"

Ryouga stayed silent, even as his face gained a slight and then progressively more prominent blush. He eventually blurted out, "We never got married."

"What?" Miwako was shocked. Ryouga's marriage to Akari was all but certain. It was as if the pig farmer had been custom made to be a perfect match for him. The only partnership Miwako was more certain of was Ranma's marriage to Akane, and that was only due to her more intimate knowledge of their feelings.

"It's not my fault they keep changing the wedding!"

"Are you telling me she keeps postponing? I can't believe it. I thought she was eager to get married," Miwako said.

"Not the date, the wedding. They keep moving the church. I don't get how the parishioners don't get confused."

Miwako shook her head. She should have guessed as much. She said, "You two should really just elope or something."

"We tried. It didn't work," Ryouga muttered.

The elevator gave a chime, and the doors slid open once again. Miwako continued to pull Ryouga behind her as they walked out into the hallway, Ryouga following like a young child being led by his mother.

"Miwako-chan!" The effervescent voice of Yumi called out from down the hall, interrupting Miwako's and Ryouga's discussion. Yumi waved to them, gave a double-take at their hand-holding, and then practically dashed forward. She gave a knowing look and asked, "Oh? And who is this?"

"This is Ryouga Hibiki. He's..." Miwako started her introduction before getting stuck. What had Ryouga been to her? A rival? An ally? An enemy? She finally settled on, "... he's an old friend. And this is Yumi Miyamoto. She was my partner in the Traffic Bureau for a few years."

"An old friend. Really," Yumi said more than asked. "I see. Of course you two are. So how did you meet?"

"It was a while ago, back in school," Ryouga said.

"Then you two are childhood friends?" Yumi asked. Her voice raised in pitch half a tone.

"Uhh... I guess so," Miwako said. Something about Yumi was giving her an odd feeling, but she couldn't figure out what it was that was off.

"Friends? What? You always stole my bread!" Ryouga shouted.

"That was my bread. It's not my fault you were so slow," Miwako said.

"You gave your lunch to her, too? How romantic," Yumi said. She poked Ryouga with her elbow. "You'll need to tell me later all about Miwako-chan's childhood. She's always so secretive about it."

"It's nothing like that, Yumi-chan. It's just my parents were killed. I don't like talking about it," Miwako said.

Ryouga's head snapped down to face the substantially shorter Miwako. He asked, "What? They're dead? When? What happened?"

"I told you before. I'm an orphan. Remember, Ryouga?" Miwako asked. She took the opportunity to jab him in the ribs with her elbow. It was a much more sharp attack than Yumi's friendly nudge had been, using enough force to bruise a more ordinary person. While it did hurt her arm more than it affected Ryouga, at least it had been enough to catch his attention.

"Uhh... that's right. An orphan. Miwako was definitely an orphan. Her parents died a long time ago, of course." Ryouga's quick babble of words drifted to a slow, painfully-forced chuckling.

"I see, I see," Yumi said. "I came over here to see if you wanted to get some lunch and watch the parade, but I can see you're already busy."

"Sorry. Maybe next time," Miwako said. She raised her free hand in a gesture of apology.

Yumi sauntered away, and Miwako continued to lead Ryouga by the hand to a window with a view of The Golden Garden. Various men paused and subtly stared whenever they passed. There were very few of them, though. Most of the officers were either on duty related to the parade, or were finding a good spectator location from which they could enjoy the show themselves.

Miwako did notice how Ryouga gave the water fountains they walked past a wide berth, angling to keep Miwako between them and him at all times despite the weird directions that pulled her hand. She made the natural deduction, and asked, "You're still not cured? It's been years. I had assumed everybody had figured something out by now."

"Well, you know how Jusendo was flooded. Nobody's exactly been eager to remake things there, and I don't think anybody's willing to try an unorthodox cure anymore after... you know. I know I'm sure not."

"Then I guess Ranma's the lucky one," Miwako said.

Silence greeted Miwako's statement. She waited for Ryouga to come back with some rant or retort or something. When it became clear that no such reply was forthcoming, she turned around to see what was wrong.

Ryouga looked aghast. His eyes were wide open, staring at Miwako as if she were on the edge of a cliff threatening to jump. His mouth was far less decisive. It kept opening, then closing, then opening again, then closing again.

"I... Look... If there..." Ryouga haltingly said. His naturally loud voice had dropped by half to be closer to a loud whisper.

Miwako thought about what she had said, what Ryouga had been imagining, and realized the problem. If she had come face-to-face with a forever-trapped pig who had formerly been Ryouga, she probably would have been thinking something very similar. In many ways, Miwako was the manifestation of the greatest fear all Jusenkyo victims had.

She stopped, turned to Ryouga, and used her free hand to pat Ryouga's much-higher shoulder. She said, "Come on. Relax. I'm fine. Things are good. Really. I got this great job, and check out this fancy badge." Miwako flashed out her detective identification.

"Really?" Ryouga asked. He spoke slowly and haltingly, tentatively feeling out each sentence. "Because last time, you kind of..." He trailed off again.

Last time? Last time what? Miwako thought back. When was the last time they had met? It couldn't have been more than three years. Four? Five? No, it had been longer. She kept thinking back, and realized that she hadn't actually seen Ryouga since before she had left Nerima. That explained his trepidation, at least.

Miwako said, "Oh, that? Yeah, I can see what you mean. Things were a bit rough back then, but it's better now. I'm sorry about my mother, but the way I figure, getting rid of that Panda was the best decision I ever made."

Ryouga gave an obviously forced laugh in reply. He then said in a rush, "Yeah, there is that. I mean, you'd probably be all married to Ryu-san by now if you hadn't. You really got lucky there."

The beginnings of a cold lump formed in the pit of Miwako's stomach. She tried to remain calm as she asked, "Ryu-san? What Ryu-san?"

The only Ryu that Miwako knew of was Ryu Kumen, an impoverished boy who had accidentally destroyed his family home in learning the Yamasenken, a highly destructive school of martial arts based on a noisy thief. He had once impersonated Ranma Saotome in a convoluted plot to locate Genma Saotome and learn some new martial arts techniques to rebuild his dojo. The whole situation had been outrageous, like so many of the other debacles which had plagued her childhood. However, as a result of that particular misadventure, Miwako had learned the Umisenken, a stealthy school of martial arts based on a quiet thief, so it wasn't a total loss, even if she had ended up sealing away those exceptionally dangerous techniques.

"Ryu Kumen," Ryouga said, while Miwako resumed their journey to an appropriate window. "You know, that whole thing with the engagement and everything."

The cold lump Miwako felt metastasized into an outright black hole as the bottom fell out of her stomach. It was only with a forcible reminder that there was no way that any Saotome could engage her to anybody that she recovered enough to ask, "What engagement?"

"You really are out of it, aren't you? Haven't you kept up at all with anything back in Nerima?" Ryouga asked.

"I call... sometimes..."

"When's the last time you talked to anybody back there?"

"Uhh..." Miwako hesitated. She couldn't actually remember the last time she had spoken with anybody from her high school years. It wasn't so much that she had anything in particular against anybody from back then; there was just no reason to talk to any of them. They were all too absorbed in the world surrounding Ranma Saotome to care about a loose thread from one of his resolved adventures. It was just like Ryu Kumen. She had never given him any thought after he had left. If Ryouga hadn't mentioned him, she might have gone her entire life without thinking of him ever again, as forgotten as the battle doji folded in a box next to the jar of shotgun bean seeds in the Tendo attic.

"Exactly. You have no idea about anything, do you?"

"Fine. You're right. I don't call them," Miwako said. "So you going to tell me what's the deal or not?"

"You'll need to ask Ranma or somebody else in the Tendo Dojo for all the details, but from what I gathered, Saotome-san tried to sell you to him or something."

That was enough to overwhelm Miwako. She stopped for the second time, spun to face Ryouga, and sputtered, "What? But... What? That doesn't even make sense. He doesn't have any official relationship to me. Ryu doesn't have any money. None of that makes any sense." Her mind was stuck in a loop. She could think of no series of events which would explain how her biological father would have tried to sell her hand in marriage. Again. In a way, it was very characteristic of her old life as Ranma.

"Anyway, when Ryu found out the truth, he went back to the Tendo Dojo looking for a fight," Ryouga said.

Miwako could imagine the scene: Ryu storming up and challenging Genma. Genma somehow using a combination of guile and guilt to transfer the responsibility to Ranma. The confrontation would have proceeded until it climaxed with an improbable martial arts challenge which seemed to offer a glimmer of hope. Ranma would win it, of course. However, despite Ranma's victory, the entire situation would remain unresolved.

"I'll bet Ranma's delighted he's cured now. I have no idea how, but I bet he would have ended up engaged to Ryu if he wasn't," Miwako said. It wouldn't have even been the first time. The times she had ended up engaged as a girl were far fewer than the times she had been engaged as a boy, but they were still plentiful enough. She was sure that Ranma's relief at being cured was only surpassed by Miwako's own thankfulness on having had the foresight and nerve to formally cut all connection to the Saotomes.

"Knowing him, he would have," Ryouga said. "As it happened, though, Akane-chan's the lucky one this time. Somehow the engagement ended up getting transferred to her, so now she's got an extra fiance, and Ryu-san is living together with them. I think he took over a storage room in the dojo or something."

"Fiance? But Ranma and Akane-chan are married now. How could she have a fiance?" Miwako asked.

Miwako waited for a response from Ryouga. It never came. He only flatly stared at her. After several seconds, she asked the natural follow-up question. "They are married now... Aren't they?"

Ryouga shook his head back.

"How are they not married yet!" More than anybody else, she knew her own yearning love of Akane. Knowing that she couldn't be with her had been one of the biggest factors in Miwako's decision to leave Nerima. It was a foregone conclusion in her heart that Ranma and Akane would have married years ago.

Ryouga shrugged his shoulders back at Miwako. He said, "You'd need to ask them that."

"I guess I will, if I ever see them again," Miwako said.

By this point, the two of them had reached the windows, and the expansive view they provided of the surrounding area. A few streets away showed the crowd of parade spectators, but more importantly, Miwako could easily point at a tall white building with a prominent yellow sign in the distance. She said, "Anyway, you see that sign over there? That's The Golden Garden."

"I see it. I'm almost there. I can still make it in time. Wait for me, Akari-chan!" Ryouga released Miwako's hand and started moving forward.

His shout gave Miwako enough warning to brace herself and snatch at Ryouga's trailing arm before he could gain any real forward momentum. She pulled him back, and shouted, "Hold it! These windows don't open!"

As she spoke, Miwako came to the frustrating realization that the whole trip had been for naught. There was no chance that Ryouga would actually remember how to get to the hotel once it left his sight, and the journey down would necessarily make that happen. They were back to where they had started.

If Miwako wanted to help, there wasn't anything else she could do. She sighed and resigned herself to her fate. It was a small consolation that the hotel was only a few blocks away, and she had a lunch break coming up anyway. She said, "Whatever. Come on. I'll bring you there myself." She then turned and started leading Ryouga back down to the ground floor.

They had only just started that trip when Takagi, the most junior member of Division 1 and her frequent partner, appeared. He took a look at the pair of them, and then asked, "Satou-san? Who is this?"

"This is Ryouga Hibiki. He's an old friend of mine. This is Wataru Takagi. He's one of my partners in Division 1," Miwako introduced the two of them.

"Nice to meet you," Ryouga said.

"What are you up to? I was wondering..." Takagi hesitated, then rallied, "if you wanted to go watch the parade with me."

"Sorry, Takagi-san. I can't. I'm going to The Golden Garden with Ryouga here," Miwako said.

"The Golden Garden? Th..th...that hotel?" Takagi deflated like a balloon, withered and slumped.

"That's right. Maybe next time," Miwako said.

"Sure, next time," Takagi said. He wandered off in a dejected haze, and then flopped heavily into the chair at his desk.

Miwako continued onward, leading Ryouga by the hand back to the elevators.

"If you didn't know about the situation with Ryu-san, you probably haven't heard about the upcoming tournament, either," Ryouga said.

Miwako's stomach twisted itself into another knot as she imagined what new wacky adventure Ranma and company had gotten into. Between the various races, cooking competitions, and performance spectacles she had been forced to participate in as a teenager, she know they were invariably bad news. The only thing worse was if she or somebody she knew had been kidnapped. It took all of her composure to keep an impassive face while asking, "No. What happened this time? Another engagement? Ancient lost martial arts technique?"

"No, nothing like that this time. Well, there is a martial arts technique, but it's not what you're thinking. Ranma and Akane-chan are hosting a big tournament. They're trying to drum up business for their classes. You should go. It'd be a good chance to catch up. There's two tournaments: one for the general public, and a real one for the true martial artists. That one's invitation-only, but I'm sure if you asked, they'd be happy to have you join. The prize is some new secret technique that Ranma created."

Miwako let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. She said, "I don't know. I haven't exactly kept up with my training. I'll bet Akane-chan can beat me by now." Miwako still did some basic practice, but she did none of the strenuous daily drilling she had engaged in throughout her childhood. Seven years was a long time for her former fiancee to catch up.

Ryouga eyed Miwako from head to foot, and back again. The intense stare lasted a whole five seconds, before Ryouga relaxed again. He said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that. I'm guessing you would still make a pretty respectable showing." With a smirk, he then added, "You might even get past the first round. If you got lucky."

"Maybe," Miwako said, as she pushed the button to summon the elevator. The doors immediately opened up, and the pair stepped inside.

"Where and when did you say that tournament was going to be?" Miwako asked. She bore no illusions on her abilities to win in any serious competition, but it had been far too long since she had seen anybody from Nerima. The last person she had spoken to was Kasumi, and that had been years ago.

The elevator doors re-opened on the ground floor, and Miwako started leading Ryouga out to the street again.

"It's next week," Ryouga said. "And I think it's... Uhh... what was that school near Seoul called again?"

"Never mind. I'll figure out where it is myself," Miwako said.

With that, the pair stepped out into the street. They were immediately surrounded by the loud murmur of a chattering crowd. The parade was several blocks away, but the quiet roar of thousands of conversations could still be heard, and still more people were drifting in as noon approached.

* * *

An unnatural quiet filled the courtyard.

There were hundreds of spectators lining the far side of the street, but none of them were saying anything louder than a whisper. The silence made the makeshift audience feel more like a haunted sculpture garden than a real crowd of living humans. The only real sound which cut through the wisp of a breeze was the occasional shout from the kidnapper who was holding Mitsuhiko hostage.

Conan all but ignored the throng of surrounding strangers as he leaned forward against a wall to peek around the corner. His position wasn't ideal to watch the kidnapper, but the building did provide a modicum of safety if the man decided to start shooting.

Harder for Conan to ignore was the presence of Ayumi and Genta behind him. It wasn't the sensation of their hands against his back. They was as irrelevant to the unfolding situation as the playful sun dress the short woman across the street was wearing. Rather, it was the danger the hands represented that distracted him. Both of them were also peeking around the corner, which made them vulnerable targets to the kidnapper's gun. If Conan could have had his way, the two children would be with Haibara, safely on the other side of the wall and out of sight of the man who had taken Mitsuhiko hostage. Even better, they would be safe at home and completely ignorant of this unfolding emergency.

The two children were comically visible to the hostage-taker, who was a clean-shaven man dressed in an expensive dress shirt and an equally expensive apparently wool suit. More importantly, the man had a SIG Sauer P220. He held the semi-automatic pistol against Mitsuhiko's temple head as he clutched the boy against his chest using the crook of his elbow. The hostage-taker was periodically twisting that elbow to check the time on his golden watch, and he occasionally waved his pistol at seemingly random towards the distant crowd. Neither of those patterns of movement were long enough or predictable enough for Conan to be able to use to his advantage.

Another observation intruded upon Conan's consciousness. The near-silent area allowed the normally inaudible sound of footsteps on concrete to be barely heard. They provided more than enough warning, so he wasn't at all surprised when the brassy voice of Satou asked him, "What's this? Some kind of game?"

Conan turned and gave the briefest glance back at Satou. She was with an unfamiliar man who wore a bandanna and dusty clothes, both of which showed their age and substantial use. The close way she and the man held hands suggested they were intimately related, and very possibly lovers. Men and women simply never held hands like that after elementary school.

The mystery that Satou represented, and the opportunity to gather more information, immediately sprung to mind. Conan would have loved to take advantage of it, too, except that they were in the middle of a substantially more important crisis.

Haibara's eyes gave the barest flicker up at the newly-arrived pair before dropping back to a more neutral look.

Ayumi and Genta turned as well, looking very much like ordinary children in a panic over being lost or having dropped some important keepsake.

"Satou-keibu," Ayumi said, on the verge of tears, "the bad man took Mitsuhiko-kun."

Satou let go of the unknown man's hand and knelt down to eye level with Ayumi. She asked, "What's wrong?"

"Somebody grabbed Mitsuhiko-kun and is holding him hostage with a pistol. The culprit is right around this corner," Conan said in a low voice, even as he turned back to watch the hostage-taker once again. If he waited for Ayumi or Genta to explain, it would cost valuable time and risk a potential misunderstanding from one of the children's disorganized response.

"What?" Satou rushed over to the corner and peeked around it herself, confirming with her own eyes everything Conan had already told her. She then asked, as quietly as Conan had spoken, "Have you called for help yet? How long has he been holding him hostage?" As she spoke, she pulled out a mobile phone from a jacket pocket.

"Of course we did," Genta declared. Then, more subdued, he added, "It was the first thing Conan-kun told us to do."

"Agasa-hakasei is calling the police now. We're staying here to keep an eye on the situation," Conan said. He would have preferred to have sent Ayumi and Genta for help instead of Agasa, but the risk was too great. It would be all too easy for the children to get some important detail such as the address incorrect, or the police to outright ignore a child's call as a prank. "The culprit grabbed him at 11:32 AM. He then shouted at us all to stay back, and he's been yelling how he'll shoot him unless we cancel the parade. He keeps shouting religious things about how we're all sinners and how this festival is an insult to God."

As if it had been his cue to speak, the hostage-taker shouted out, "The Lord said to keep the Sabbath holy! This entire festival is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord!" His loud voice carried to the entire surrounding crowd.

The location of this crime was very suspicious. It could have merely been a mistake; criminals weren't well known for always exercising good judgment. If so, it was an incredibly foolish one. They were in walking distance to the police headquarters. A forceful police response would arrive in mere minutes of being informed, and with the large and still-growing crowd around them, it was inevitable that the police would be informed quickly. That was ignoring the possibility that a random officer didn't just pass by, such as Satou appeared to have done. In fact, with the parade going on, it was likely that a camera from every TV station would be here soon.

Satou swore, put her phone back into her pocket, and replaced it with a revolver. She drew the weapon easily and held it firmly without any hesitation or shaking. As was standard practice, she held it pointing directly into the ground and away from all people. She kept her finger entirely clear of the trigger as well. If nothing else, the fluidity and certainty of her actions provided conclusive evidence that she knew how to handle a pistol. That didn't provide Conan very much new information about her, though. One of Division 1's responsibilities was handling crimes involving unregistered firearms, so it was only to be expected that she would be proficient with them. Numerous criminal organizations, including but not limited to the Black Organization, would also be familiar with firearms. In fact, almost every adult Conan knew could use a gun, not to mention Conan himself.

Her bandanna-clad companion was more taken aback. He exclaimed, "You carry a gun?" It was an imprudent thing to say with the hostage taker so nearby. Conan hoped he hadn't heard.

"Yeah. It's kind of my job, Ryouga. Now be quiet and stay put," Satou hissed out. She used her left hand to push the man back away from the corner and up against the wall next to Haibara.

So Satou did know the man's name, and they spoke using yobisute, rather than more standard honorific like "-san" or "-kun." Typically that was reserved for only the closest of friends and lovers. That stood in stark contrast to Ryouga's surprise that Satou was armed. With Satou's odd speaking style, though, any deductions based on how she spoke were necessarily suspect. The only real firm thing Conan could conclude for sure was that he would need to find some opportunity to talk to this Ryouga at some point.

"I'm Miwako Satou, police! What do you want!" Satou shouted around the corner to the hostage-taker.

"I want you to cancel the parade and make everybody in Tokyo go to church. You do it, or I'll shoot this boy!" the hostage-taker shouted back. He addressed both Satou and the assembled people all along the street. Nobody seemed willing to approach the armed man, but they had no problems with lining the far side of the road, as if the asphalt below could somehow magically stop a bullet flying through the air. It was far from an ideal situation, but without a squad of uniformed officers, there would be no way to disperse the crowd and cordon off the area.

Conan did some quick calculations. It was theoretically possible that the parade could be canceled. The right leaders would need to make the right decisions, and then make the right phone calls to the right people. They would have until maybe 11:55 AM before it would be too late and it would be logistically impossible to cancel the parade before it started. However, that was only in theory. In practice, there was no way the government would yield to this type of criminal activity. It would just encourage further kidnappings in the future.

His request to get everybody to church, though, was outright impossible. Even with a week of preparation, there was simply no way to get everybody to go to church. Putting aside the questions of legality, simply spreading the message to guarantee 100% coverage was impossible, as was finding space for the entire Tokyo population in the very few churches in the city. Anybody with even a passing knowledge of Japanese society would know that.

"Why?" Satou shouted.

In the distance, Conan thought he could hear the sound of approaching police sirens. Even if it was only his imagination, it was only a matter of time before they arrived.

"This parade is an abomination. You defy the 2nd commandant. For did the Lord not say, 'the Sabbath shall be a holy day of rest and prayer?' You defy the will of God!"

Conan's mind latched on to that statement, even as he continued to think about the various other contradictions and inconsistencies. What was the kidnapper trying to accomplish? Whatever it was, even if he succeeded, things would end poorly for him. News cameras would be here in minutes, and then everybody would know his face. He had to know that. He didn't even bother to hide himself with a mask or a hood. Assuming the police didn't apprehend him, there was still no way he would escape this situation to live his life in peace afterwards.

And suddenly it all made sense. His close proximity to the police station. His impossible demands. His ostentatious actions. The exceptionally high-profile day. Conan had it all figured out, and if he was right, Mitsuhiko was going to die.

Conan hated what he had to do. He wanted to stay out of the limelight. That was the reason he had kept the story of his transformation a secret, and why he worked through Kogoro Mouri rather than making a name for himself. There were far too many people around for comfort, including and especially the known-unknown of Miwako Satou. On the other hand, Mitsuhiko's life was at stake.

He consoled himself that there still weren't any TV cameras here yet, and the chances of anybody in the crowd taking note of a child talking to a police detective were low. He just hoped that Satou was as receptive as she had been during the case of the bank manager's wife's murder, but that she still somehow exhibited the same dismissal of children that adults were always inclined towards.

Conan tugged at Satou's jacket, being careful to avoid the barrel of her gun. He said in a quiet voice, "He's lying. He's going to shoot Mitsuhiko-kun, probably at noon. He's really trying to create an anti-religion backlash among the people." His voice naturally fell into the deeper register and deliberate enunciation patterns he used when he wasn't trying to mask himself behind a facade of childishness.

"What? How do you know?" Satou asked. She continued to watch the kidnapper as she spoke.

Conan's voice took the deliberate tone of explanation. "There are several points of interest. First he isn't really a religious person. Different religious sects espouse different 10-commandments, but none of them have keeping the Sabbath holy as the second one. He's wearing wool and linen at the same time, and he's shaved off his beard, both of which violate the bible and wouldn't be expected of a zealot willing to take hostages. Consider where he is, too. He's right next to the parade. This draws attention to him and gives him a natural crowd. It makes it almost guaranteed that he will have TV cameras nearby, too. Kidnapping a child and holding him hostage makes it certain that the public will pay attention to this situation.

"Also, he's near the police headquarters. This guarantees a fast response to his appearance, and makes the news story more dramatic and more likely to be reported upon. There's his demand, too. It's impossible. The parade could possibly be canceled, but there is no way to get everybody in Tokyo to church. He doesn't want to take any chance that his request could be met. The only explanation that makes sense is that he's trying to make a political point, and the most likely one is that he wants to make some religion look bad."

Haibara picked up where Conan left off. "And what better way to make an impression than to kill a child?" She spoke coldly, as if it were a matter of fact no more unusual than noting that two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom combined to form a water molecule.

Conan nodded, and said, "Unless we can stop him."

Genta's reaction was much more emphatic. His eyes grew large in shock and he started hyperventilating.

Ayumi began to cry, and between sobs she shouted out, "Mitsuhiko-kun!"

Satou stayed silent for a few seconds. She then asked, "Well, then, what can we do?"

"Maybe you could call him out on it? If he knows the murder won't be blamed on zealots, maybe he'll give up?" Ryouga suggested.

"That would be dangerous. If he thinks he's cornered, then who knows what he could do?" Haibara asked.

"It can't be any worse than waiting for him to kill Mitsuhiko-kun," Ayumi said.

The kidnapper interrupted their discussion by shouting, "And the city must donate 100 million yen to the churches within Ginza. That den of hedonism and greed must be cleansed. For did the Lord not say it is easier for a needle to pass through a camel than the rich to enter the kingdom of God!"

Conan ignored him, and said, "We still have some time. There aren't any cameras here yet, and the police haven't arrived, either. It's likely the culprit will want to wait until a more opportune time."

The police sirens were getting louder. While before they had been a source of hope, they now sounded more like approaching doom. The reinforcements were just the attention the kidnapper was waiting for before beginning his fatal last stand.

"You should just shoot him," Haibara said. The callous coldness she used to refer to death was just as unnatural on her young lips as Conan's deep analysis and complicated speech were on his.

It was standard procedure to bring a hostage situation to a peaceful conclusion, but if it came down to it, killing the man to save an innocent life was an accepted practice. There would be in inquiry, but there were enough witnesses that it would only be a formality. Nobody would ever find fault in the actions that Satou had to take to save the life of a young boy. If she did want to take a shot, though, it would be hard with an ordinary pistol. It would be even harder with the man's unpredictable movements, and his using Mitsuhiko as a human shield. There was also the matter of the villain's own gun as well, held aggressively against Mitsuhiko's head. If something went wrong and the boy ended up dead as a result of Satou's rash actions, there was no doubt she would be facing expulsion from the police and very possibly a criminal conviction of her own.

Satou didn't say anything for several seconds as she stared around the corner. She then slowly said, "Maybe... but it'd be a hard shot. He's not going to be taken by surprise from here, and even if I get the shot off first, his reflexes may accidentally pull the trigger once he's hit."

"You can't do that," Ayumi protested. She tugged at the hem of Satou's jacket as if to hold her back.

"Yeah, you're supposed to be the good guys," Genta said.

"You can't seriously be considering shooting him," Ryouga said.

"Well, what else would you suggest?" Haibara asked.

"I don't know. Something. Anything. You can't just kill a person," Ryouga said.

Conan hated the idea, but he wasn't sure what else he could do. He wasn't so naive to think that nobody would ever get hurt, but the idea of somebody getting shot was distasteful. The person was obviously a guilty criminal, but it still felt wrong somehow. However, he could think of no other options. The man was far enough away that making a snap shot with the tranquilizer watch was completely impractical, even if there hadn't been any spectators to see him try.

Satou stayed silent in thought. She then asked, "Ryouga. I don't suppose you've trained enough to block bullets, have you?"

"Uhh..." Ryouga hesitated, then slowly said, "No. I don't think I can." The fact that Ryouga actually took the question seriously was absolutely crazy. Nobody was strong enough to simply take a bullet. It wasn't a matter of training; it was simple physics. The mere thought was as ridiculous as if a seventeen-year-old teenage detective had been forced to drink a poison which shrunk him to the age of seven.

"And he has the initiative and the better position. Any distraction we try more likely than not will get Mitsuhiko-kun killed, and there's no way to approach him without being noticed and seen. What else can we do?" Satou asked.

"Heathens! All of you! Sinners! Repent! Only by the grace of God will you achieve salvation!"

"Hold... on... I think... I have an idea... I hope I still remember how to do this," Satou said.

Satou holstered her gun, turned away from the corner, and walked to the middle of the group. She then knelt down, bringing herself to eye level. She had her back to Conan, and her positioning completely blocked Ayumi from view. Conan could still see half of Genta and Haibara, though, with Genta looking curious and Haibara appearing disinterested.

"Now pay attention," Satou said. "I have a very important question for you."

"What's that?" Genta asked.

It was a rare situation where Conan was warned beforehand that some detection was in order. The last time he could remember that happening was when Kaito Kid, the phantom thief, announced the theft of the black pearl a few weeks earlier. True to Satou's request, Conan watched her with all the focus he could muster. As much as Conan respected Haibara, and as much as he liked Genta and Ayumi, he didn't fully believe in their observational skills. Something was about to happen, and that something may be the key to saving Mitsuhiko's life.

Despite the fact that Satou had yet to actually do anything, Genta's and Ayumi's continued interest was obvious. They stared at the police woman with an overt eagerness that would have been equally in place as an audience member of a magic show. The only thing which was different was the lack of obvious joy and desire to be pleased. Even so, their eyes shone with the excitement of expectation.

Haibara was less obviously interested. Her gaze was half-veiled and sedate. Nevertheless, it was every bit as concentrated as if she were focusing on a key reaction in a test tube.

"Now I have a very important question for you," Satou said.

Even as she spoke, something tugged at Conan's intuition. Something felt out of place. It was like when Kaito Kid had called the police to his hiding place on the top of the roof, or when he had asked a bystander to pick up a trick pearl. Something was wrong. Conan couldn't figure out what it was, though. His every instinct was screaming at him that Satou was doing something suspicious, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell why. She wasn't doing anything special that Conan could see. True, he could only see her back, but Genta, Ayumi, and Haibara all had a clear view of her front. If she was doing something weird, then they would have reacted. However, none of them had. They were just staring at Satou, who continued to kneel there, as plain and clear as the nose on the front of his face.

"What is it?" Ayumi asked. She looked curious, but otherwise had no real reaction. So why did Conan keep thinking that Ayumi was the key to unlocking the situation?

It suddenly came to him. How could he even see Ayumi? She was being blocked by Satou's kneeling body. However, he could in fact see her, despite needing to look straight through Satou's back to do so. That necessarily meant that Satou was not actually blocking the view to Ayumi.

The criticism that Sherlock Holmes had said to John Watson that he always saw but he never observed. There were 17 steps up the stairs to 221B Baker Street. Shinichi had taken those words to heart, and thereafter had always stretched himself to actually observe the world around him. He always knew how many steps it took to walk anywhere. Regardless, that habit of a lifetime had to fight tremendously against a strange desire to assume everything was in order. It was a disconcerting effect, and he wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't experiencing the strange duality unfolding in front of him for himself.

What Conan observed was Satou gliding to the side of Genta. However, it took an improbable amount of focus to do so. It was as much a matter of noticing that he didn't know whether the traffic light in the distance was green or red as it was of actually seeing Satou herself. It was enough to cause him to shake his head and wipe his eyes. Satou was a whisper of a thought, as insubstantial as how a mark on a window, a snapped string, a disconnected light bulb, and the smell of flowers combined in his mind's eye to reveal a murderer strangling a victim. It was the first time he had experienced the effect in the physical world. However, there Satou was, as clear as the nose on his face: omnipresent, but never really noticed despite it sticking out as a transluncent mass on the bottom of his vision.

"I need to know if you can see this," Satou said. Her voice was also hard to pin down. He assumed the sound was coming from in front of Genta and Ayumi. There was no actual evidence of that, though. When he actually observed with his ears, he was sure her voice was coming from the phantom position behind Ayumi and Genta.

"See what?" Ayumi asked.

With the subtly of a pickpocket plucking a pearl broach off the chest of a victim, the ghostly vision of Satou reached out and pulled the headband off of Ayumi's head. However, Ayumi didn't react in any way, nor did Genta, or even Haibara. Conan himself could barely believe what he was seeing.

Abruptly, it all collapsed to simplicity. The headache-inducing, distracting appearance of Satou snapped into sharp focus behind Ayumi. She promptly asked, her voice now appearing to come from her actual position, "This. Did you see me take this?" She presented Ayumi's headband in front of her for all to see.

Both Ayumi and Genta jumped and gave a small shout. They abruptly spun to face Satou, now kneeling down behind them. Ayumi clutched at her head, confirming that the missing hairpiece was her own, before hesitantly taking it back from Satou.

Haibara was more controlled in her reaction, merely whipping her head towards Satou's new position. She was also the first to recover. She said, "I didn't see you take it."

"Me either. That was cool! Are you some kind of ninja?" Genta asked. His loud exclamation caused Conan to take a quick glance at the kidnapper to see if he had heard. The man was checking his watch and appeared to not have noticed.

"No. I'm a police detective," Satou said, a smug smirk on her face.

"How did you do that?" Ayumi asked.

"I think she just sidled around you, back when she was talking," Conan said.

Satou frowned. She asked, "So you did see me?"

Conan nodded in response. He added, "You were really hard to see, though. I've never seen anything like it. What kind of trick did you use?"

In the distance, the police sirens were definitely getting louder.

"It's a family secret," Satou said as she climbed to her feet once again. "It's troubling that you were able to see through it, though."

"Well, from what I can tell, you did the technique right, but didn't you seal the Umisenken?" Ryouga asked.

"Yes, I did. Don't you think I know that?" Satou hissed out, causing Conan to once again snap a glance at the kidnapper. "But what else can we do? I'm not fast enough to catch a bullet, and I'm sure you can't, either. If you got a better idea, I'm all for it, but we're out of time, and nobody's dying today."

A tense silence passed between Satou and Ryouga. Suddenly the tension vanished, and Satou was calm again. It was unnatural how fast the transition was. With ice-cold dispassion, she said, "Stay back, this could be dangerous."

Satou turned her back to the others and walked to the corner of the building. She then called out, "I'm coming out, I just want to talk!" She raised her hands and slowly emerged into the open.

Conan took advantage of Satou's departure to walk over to Ryouga and tug on his sleeve. "Hey, hey, Ryouga-niisan. Do you know what she did? It seems pretty weird."

"She... it's..." Ryouga hesitated, "... it's a martial arts technique. A really special one. It makes you invisible."

That wasn't like any martial arts which Conan had heard of before, and Ran had a black belt in karate, so he had picked up a fair bit of it throughout the years through her. Everything she had done had been focused on punches, kicks, throws, blocks, and dodges. There was nothing even approaching what Ryouga had said. Even so, Conan was reluctant to dismiss it out-of-hand. It was hard to doubt the personal experience he had just had.

"Can you do it too?" Conan asked. He was eager to learn more, both for its own novelty as well as for the fact that it could reveal something of Satou's history.

"Me? Oh, no. It's a secret technique from her family school."

The mention of a family school definitely piqued Conan's interest. He asked, "What school is that?"

"The Anything Goes school of martial arts."

The naming of that school jolted through Conan. It was a huge coincidence to what he had learned of Tendo, and it provided the first independent corroboration of a relationship between Satou and him. Conan would definitely need to follow-up on that later. Rather than tip his hand by asking Ryouga more, though, he asked, "Hey, hey, you know her pretty well, don't you?"

"What? I guess you could say that," Ryouga said.

"What's she like? I only met her a couple of times," Conan asked. It was infuriating. He practically had a laundry list of questions, such as where Satou had grown up and why there were no records of her parents, but he couldn't outright ask any of them without raising Ryouga's suspicions of him in turn.

"Do we have to talk about this now? This isn't exactly a good time to be playing questions and answers," Ryouga said. He briefly glanced over to where Satou was apparently standing in the open, albeit performing that out-of-body trick again.

* * *

The test of whether or not the Umisenken would work on civilians had been mostly unnecessary. That particular set of techniques had been designed by Genma based off the skills of the silent thief, and they would have been much less useful if they only worked on martial artists. However, being mostly unnecessary was not to say it was completely unnecessary, and Miwako wanted to take no chances when facing a hostage situation against a criminal with a gun.

It had been unnerving that Conan had actually seen her. However, Ryouga had said that she had performed the technique correctly, and none of the others had seen her. Even Conan had said that she had been hard to follow, and Miawko still hadn't figured out what the boy was the master of. She was willing to make the assumption that he was telling the truth and he was a master detective, which would explain how he was able to catch a master thief. It wasn't like she had any other ideas, either. She would need to take the chance, and be prepared to abort if the kidnapper made any movement which suggested that something was going wrong.

Miwako automatically went through the mental exercises of the Soul of Ice technique to steady her nerves and focus herself. She then shouted around the corner, "I'm coming out, I just want to talk!" Afterwards, she raised her hands and slowly emerged into the open.

The world held its breath.

Miwako carefully watched the hostage-taker as if her life depended on it, and was primed to dive back around the corner if the man made any motion to shoot at her. She was fast, but she had no illusions of her ability to close the distance with the man before he could fire. She could probably out-shoot him in a straight firefight, but she couldn't even attempt to take that risk with a kid being held hostage.

"Stay back!" the man shouted back. He was still easy to hear, but the ever-approaching sirens were definitely starting to drown him out. As tense as their imminent arrival was, they were something of a blessing, too. The loud sounds would help to mask any imperfections of her Umisenken execution.

Miwako allowed herself to start breathing again. If the man was planning on shooting her, the most likely time would have been at that first opportunity of her appearance. It was one moment of crisis passed, countless more potentially disastrous ones to go.

Eerily, the large crowd around them was mostly silent. It lent a surreal atmosphere to see so many people so quietly focused. It also increased the pressure substantially. If anything happened, there would be plenty of witnesses and just as many potential victims, just like the hostage-taker wanted.

"Okay!" Miwako shouted back. At the same time, she took a step back, using the movement to mask the start of the slight-of-body of the Umisenken. She took the opportunity while she was still directly adjacent to her apparent location to call out, "Okay! I just want to talk!" She then carefully took a step to the side, studiously watching the man to see where his gaze was focused and looking for any evidence that he saw her true position.

"About what! You know what I want!" the man shouted to where Miwako was pretending to stand. She took that as her cue to start approaching him at an oblique angle.

It was a tense trip. Any mistake could give her away: a kicked rock, a cracked twig, a scuffed foot. Anything could be fatal. It was much more nerve-wracking than her fight against Ryu. In that fight, Miwako had only risked having a limb amputated. Here, if she messed up, an innocent boy would be killed.

"Yes, what was it that you wanted again? For us to cancel the parade?" It already took more effort for Miwako to throw her voice across the short distance between her real position and her supposed position.

Miwako continued onward, moving slightly faster than an ordinary walking pace. She wanted to hurry, but she could only travel so quickly. It didn't help at all how out of practice she was.

"Yes! Today is the Sabbath! All you sinners should be in church! This worship of hedonism must stop!"

"That will take a while! Can't you give us a bit more time to do it?" The further Miwako got from her supposed position, the harder it was to maintain the illusion. She was only about half-way to the man. She really hoped the sirens would mask the bits of disconnection she couldn't reconcile.

"I don't care. God will support the faithful and favor you with success. If you fail, then God will smite the wicked!" The man gesticulated with his gun, waiving it at the crowd before pointing it in the vague direction of Mitsuhiko's head again.

Miwako had to stop moving for a second and concentrate in order to properly project her voice. "And you said you wanted some money too, right?" She then started stalking forward once again.

After another couple of seconds, Miwako found herself beside the kidnapper. If she needed to, she could dive into him with a tackle. That was only for the most desperate of situations, though. The risks of doing so while he held a loaded gun at the ready were obvious. She would need to disarm him. Unfortunately, his grip was far too strong for that. The Umisenken was powerful, but it did have its limitations. Even if there was a distraction, he would likely notice having his gun pried out from his firm grip, and she didn't even have anything resembling a distraction she could take advantage of.

She looked around and thought carefully. Unlike a noisy thief, the silent thief needed to be patient and resourceful to succeed. Distract people by posing at the front gate, but then attack through the undefended side entrance. Feign the obvious, and take the unexpected. The best path for success would be to get in and out without being noticed at all.

Miwako's examination revealed a potential weakness in the fortress the man's tight grip represented. A few millimeters of unguarded metal exposed just above the man's hand. It would require an adroit hand to counterbalance the weight and not expose her actions. It would need all the deftness a master of the Umisenken could bring to bear to the task at hand. It was an open question whether a former master who was years out of practice would suffice.

"Yes! 100 million yen! For the churches in Ginza!" the man continued to yell at the empty space in front of him.

Miwako took advantage of the slight bit of extra distraction of the man talking to the hold the gun steady as she pressed the gun's magazine release and gently slid the cartridge out. She concluded by clearing the chamber, fully disarming the weapon.

Now that the gun was no more threatening than any other lump of metal, Miwako wasted no time in seizing the opportunity, in this case quite literally. She used her right arm to hook under the kidnapper's right shoulder and jerked it backwards. She simultaneously used her left hand to reach around and grab his left elbow.

"How about if we..." A fierce yank, and Mitsuhiko fell unceremoniously on the floor. "... do this instead."

The man flailed in surprise and panic. The gun trigger ineffectively clicked twice before he lost his grip and the pistol was flung away.

Miwako glanced to where Mitsuhiko was scurrying away as fast as legs could take him. Now that he was clear, Miwako swept the kidnapper's feet out from under him and drove him down to the ground. It was safer to put him on the floor rather than trying to maintain control over him in a standing position, especially seeing how he was physically larger than her.

"You're under arrest," Miwako said. It was a mere formality by this point.

There was a stunned silence from the crowd as people blinked, rubbed their eyes, and tried to figure out how they had missed the policewoman apprehending the man. Then the tentative clapping began, followed by a decidedly more enthusiastic cheering.

The police, including Division 1, showed up shortly thereafter. They helped to secure the scene of the crime, and especially the perpetrator himself. Once he was in custody, the man was only too eager to explain things, as if somehow the mixture of confession and admission would somehow make things right. He blamed everything on some woman's family. It had been love at first sight, but her father and mother had been devoted Jews and had refused to let her date anybody not of the faith. They kept reciting scripture at him and calling him a heathen sinner. He could not accept that, and wanted to take his revenge upon them.

Miwako was more interested in Conan himself than in the resolution of the case. This was the third time Miwako had found him in the middle of an ongoing crime. Three times. Once was incidental. Twice was a coincidence. But thrice? Moreover, in each of those three situations, Conan had noticed the key details that led the police to the correct conclusion.

That wasn't even counting the weird things Miwako had noticed about Conan. She was far from an expert detective, but she did know enough to realize something was weird. What seven-year-old noticed sweat marks on the floor? What seven-year-old would care about the positioning of windows in a room? What seven-year-old had a working knowledge of biblical scriptures? What seven-year-old could pierce the Umisenken? What seven-year-old showed such a degree of composure in the face of a gun? Miwako knew enough about strange transformations, and had undergone enough of them herself, to know that something was definitely wrong.

"Are you done yet? You were going to show me to The Golden Garden, and it's almost noon," Ryouga said, as if the entire ordeal they had just lived through had been a mere figment of the imagination.

Miwako put her thoughts about Conan to the side. Any investigation would need to wait. Her duty as a police detective came first, but getting Ryouga to Akari came in as a close second. If she let Ryouga get lost, she was sure neither of them would forgive her.

"Megure-keibu, do you still need me here? I'd like to get Ryouga to The Golden Garden by noon," Miwako asked.

"The Golden Garden? At this hour?" Megure asked back. He raised his eyes in question to Miwako. Behind him, Takagi, Shiratori, and Chiba all stopped what they were doing and turned to look.

"I got to bring him to meet his fiancee. He's got a rotten sense of direction, you see, and they're supposed to meet up at noon," Miwako said, pointing back to Ryouga.

"Miwako," Ryouga protested, but didn't disagree.

"Oh! Is that what's going on," Takagi said with a sigh. His shoulders immediately straightened and the gloom disappeared from his face.

"I see. I think we're okay here for now. You can finish your report back at the station," Megure said.

"Okay, see you all later," Miwako said. She gave a quick salute, then took Ryouga by the hand and resumed their original path back to the hotel. There was just enough time to get there.

They were about a block away from the scene before Ryouga asked Miwako, "That was pretty intense. Was that normal for you?"

"Not really. Usually whatever we're investigating has already happened. It's pretty rare to get into a live situation with somebody," Miwako said. Even as she spoke, her mind flashed through several confrontations she had had over the years. She was both the most adventurous person as well as the most physically adept person on the team, which was what had caused Megure to request her transfer in the first place. Luckily, her particular skills were still only infrequently needed.

"I see. I guess it was just my good luck that it happened when I was around."

"Well, nobody was hurt, so I'll take it. Anyway, we're here," Miwako said. The giant sign proclaiming The Golden Garden made it clear that they had arrived. Katsunishiki, an enormous pig, was waiting by the entrance. He was huge enough to dwarf Ryouga, let alone the substantially smaller Miwako. The pig reacted instantly and nuzzled up to Ryouga, who patted his snout in return.

Coincidentally the doors to the hotel slid open, and Ryouga's would-be wife walked out. Akari Unryu had aged well. Her long hair streamed out from underneath her broad-brimmed frilly bonnet, and she wore a light dress covered with flower prints which would have suited her equally well a decade earlier.

"Miwako-san, is that you?" Akari asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "That is you. You found Ryouga-kun. Thank you."

"It was nothing."

"Are you busy? We're going to see the parade, and I got some tickets for the amusement park after that," Akari said.

"No thanks. I'm still on duty, and my lunch break will be over soon," Miwako said. "Maybe next time."

"Okay, we'll hold you to that," Akari said. She climbed onto the back of Katsunishiki like he was a giant horse. Ryouga did the same thing. The pig was big enough that there was plenty of room for both of them plus several more passengers.

"Seriously, you should keep in touch. Give us a call sometime," Ryouga said.

"How am I supposed to do that? Half the time you don't even know where you are," Miwako said.

"Just call the Unryuu farm. I find it frequently enough," Ryouga said.

"Just not consistently enough for a wedding," Akari said.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'll make it one of these days," Ryouga said.

Akari held her chin in thought as Katsunishiki carried them away. The last thing Miwako heard was Akari musing, "I think maybe we should get a priest on call."

* * *

Last Updated: May 11, 2018


	3. Chapter 3: Deception

Chapter 3: Deception

Finding Conan's address had been easy enough. The Parade Hostage Case might have been seen by hundreds of people, but courts required specific names and testimonials for evidence. All five of the children were considered major witnesses, so naturally their contact information had been collected. Finding out where Conan lived was as easy as looking it up.

It was only after Miwako had knocked on the door to his apartment that she realized that she hadn't really thought things through. She had no real reason to visit the detective boy who had so recently caught her attention, and she had no idea what she would say to whoever opened the door.

"Coming," a girl called out.

A lifetime of stressful situations, plus some grueling special training under an old ghoul of a woman, ensured that Miwako didn't immediately devolve into a state of mindless panic. She had maybe 10 seconds to come up with a good explanation as to why she was visiting, and she meant to take advantage of every single one of them.

What possible reasons could she have? In the Traffic Bureau, she and Yumi had frequently needed to interact with the public; she had lost count of the number of traffic safety lectures she had given. A community outreach message could work, although that had a major disadvantage; such presentations were typically more monologues by the police officer than interactive dialogues that she could use to ask questions. Division 1 rarely did such presentations, too. It wasn't as if a "dangers of gun smuggling" talk was very useful, and it would look very strange if she were to talk about sidewalk safety in her current role. It was possible, but it was far from the best excuse.

The door latch clicked with the decisiveness of a gunshot. The door opened. She had run out of time.

Answering Miwako's knock was a teenage girl with straight hair which went half-way down her back. She wore the green tie and blue pleated skirt of a Teitan High School student. The girl matched the description of Ran Mouri, the daughter of Kogoro Mouri and the unofficial guardian of Conan. She was carrying a ladle in her free hand, which paired well with the apron she wore on top of her uniform. In the background, the beginnings of dinner could be smelled.

"Can I help you?" Ran asked after the briefest of pauses.

Miwako had a flash of insight. She knew how she was going to approach Conan and the rest of the family.

"I'm Miwako Satou, with the police," Miwako said. She showed her badge to Ran.

Ran visibly tensed up. She asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing like that," Miwako said. Ran relaxed in response, albeit only slightly. Miwako adopted a somewhat official tone, and asked, "Does Conan Edogawa live here?"

"Yes, he lives here," Ran said. She sighed, and her shoulder drooped a bit. It was one of the most muted reactions Miwako had ever seen in response to a police officer visiting.

"I have some questions for him about a recent hostage situation he was involved with," Miwako said.

Ran sighed again, more pronounced this time. She said, "I see. Come in." Ran turned and called out behind her, "Conan-kun! You have a visitor." She then walked back to the kitchen.

She carried herself with a rigidness befitting a martial artist who practiced some kind of hard martial arts school, most likely karate. Intermixed with this was a hint of some softer techniques as well. Intuition suggested it was something like judo, but it wouldn't have been a stretch if it were aikido or something else similar. Ran probably had at least one black belt to her name. Overall, she was one of the better practitioners among the general population who hadn't dedicated their entire life to the Art.

Miwako's assessment, a reflexive habit gained from years of martial arts practice and countless surprise attacks from the most unlikely of sources, came to an end when she heard a high-pitched boy say, "Good evening, Satou-keibu."

* * *

Ran's simple summoning call revealed a great deal to Conan. Ironically, it was her very unconcern about the visitor which most worried him.

She exhibited a lack of urgency, which suggested it was something fairly routine. Indirectly, that suggested that it was not a member of the Detective Boys visiting; none of them would have called upon him without prior arrangement unless there was an emergency of some sort. Even something merely unexpected, such as Kobayashi coming in for a home-visit, would have had Ran expressing some concern in her call as she worried over why Conan's teacher would be wanting to talk.

Ran's voice merely had the smallest hint of exasperation. That eliminated pretty much anything Conan could think of. That meant that this was something unexpected. And that meant Conan would need to act carefully to feel his way through the situation.

The mystery of the unknown visitor's identity was quickly resolved when Conan walked into the living room. Satou was standing just inside the front door. She was dressed in a shirt and skirt which matched the same outfit she had worn the last time he had seen her, albeit both were different colors. Her presence took him aback. It was too much to be a coincidence. No Assistant Police Inspector made random house calls to children. Satou must have targeted him for some reason.

It was fortunate in a way. Conan had become stymied in his own inquiries. Being an apparent child brought with it numerous disadvantages. He could not engage in anything as overt as conducting a stakeout against Satou, and he had not had a chance to speak to Ryouga after the hostage situation had been resolved. The only new thing Conan had really learned was that Satou could perform some seemingly impossible trick to sneak up on an armed man in broad daylight. It was definitely intriguing to know that she could do so, but such knowledge did little to advance the investigation.

Satou's visit provided a unique opportunity to learn something about her, and to potentially make a breakthrough in his investigation. It was also a very risky opportunity. In the worst case, Satou could be a member of the Black Organization. One careless word could result in the death of him and everybody he knew.

Conan would definitely need to be cautious.

"Good evening, Satou-keibu," Conan said. He used a voice which protested its innocence and assured the listener that the child was absolutely positively a completely ordinary seven-year-old boy with absolutely positively no secrets at all to hide, thank you very much.

"Good evening. I have some follow-up questions about that kidnapper a few days ago," Satou said.

"I thought I answered everything already," Conan said.

Satou hesitated briefly, then said, "There were a few details I wanted to get cleared up."

That was a transparent lie. Conan, as well as the other Detective Boys, had provided Megure and the other officers everything they needed to prosecute the case at the scene of the crime. In the unlikely event that the police did need more information, it was far more likely that they would have invited all of the Detective Boys to the police headquarters for questioning there, much like they had done for the Castle Case.

"Okay," Conan said in an eager and happy voice, just like any ordinary child who had been taught to respect and obey the police would do. He then led Satou to the living room. The public nature of that location would inhibit the more risky lines of questioning that Conan could be subjected to.

Various boxes and piles of rubbish were stacked around the edges of the small room, including on top of the tall bookshelves which lined one of the walls. It wasn't exactly messy, but it did give the area an ambiance of mismanagement.

Adding to this general feeling of clutter was Kogoro Mouri himself, the disheveled owner of the Mouri Detective Agency. The middle-aged man with a thick mustache was sprawled across a chair in the center of the room.

Mouri jumped to his feet upon seeing Satou. He quickly said, "Oh, a customer? Ran-chan, bring us some tea!"

Business had started picking up in recent past for the Mouri Detective Agency now that "Mouri" had started successfully solving cases. That he did so while apparently sleeping only added to the mystique of the man and increased demand for his services from curious customers. Hopefully none of them would ever discover the little detail that it was Conan who was actually solving the cases.

Satou blinked in response to Mouri's reaction. She then shook her head, and said, "Not exactly. I'm Miwako Satou, from the Tokyo Police, Division 1. I'm here to ask Conan-kun a couple of questions about a recent crime he witnessed."

"This kid again," Mouri said more than asked. He gave the boy a knock on the head. "Why can't you bring us a case for once?"

"Dad," Ran protested as she entered the room carrying several cups of tea.

Satou had a wry smile on her face as she casually took a cup from Ran.

In contrast, Mouri practically snatched his own cup from the tray. He said, "He's a freeloader. Is it too much to ask that he pays for himself sometimes?"

"Conan-kun's parents send us plenty of money to take care of him," Ran said. With Eri's separation from Mouri, it fell to Ran to take care of the household finances, even though she was still in high school. She was acutely aware of how the periodic checks from Conan's parents fed the extra mouth and more.

"So you aren't his father?" Satou asked.

"No. His parents left him here with us. There's no way I'd name my kid a dumb name like Conan," Mouri said.

Conan winced at the comment. He also disliked the name he had selected for himself. It may have been selected under particularly stressful and unforgiving circumstances, but that didn't make it any more palatable. It was one of the few things for which he was envious of Haibara. She had had the time and the space to select a much more reasonable and appropriate name to go by.

Ran, for her part, frowned and sent a strong glare towards her father.

Satou took a sip from her cup of tea, and then asked, "Then where are his parents?"

"They're in the United States," Ran said. She stood off to the side, holding the serving tray in both her hands against her stomach.

"They're probably trying to keep away from this kid," Mouri said, pointing his thumb at Conan. That prompted another glare from Ran.

"In the United States?" Satou asked. "What can you tell me about them?"

By this point, Conan was decidedly uncomfortable. He was losing control of the conversation, and there was far more information about his cover story coming out than he would have liked. He took advantage of his childish form, and the lack of expectations for children to follow social conventions, in order to directly interrupt before either Ran or Mouri could say anything. He bounced back and forth between his feet and asked, "Hey, hey, weren't you going to ask me some questions about that bad guy?"

Satou startled and looked down at Conan. She said, "That's right." She paused briefly. "You said you were walking to the movie theater, right?"

"Yeah. We were going to see that new Yaiba movie," Conan said. He did his best to imitate the enthusiasm Genta and the others showed for the cartoon.

"Is there any reason you think that that man targeted Mitsuhiko-kun specifically?" Satou asked.

"I'm just a kid. I don't know any of that kind of stuff," Conan said. The general lack of direction of Satou's questions added certainty to his suspicions that Satou wasn't visiting for official business.

"How did you know all about that religious stuff?" Satou asked.

By this point, Conan had heard enough of Satou's speech to feel confident in his conclusions. He had been mistaken; she didn't speak nearly as masculinely as he had thought at first. Her brash and brassy voice had deceived him. Most of the language she used was arguably standard, albeit decidedly immature and casual for a woman. The only parts of her speech which were overtly wrong were some of the pronouns and verbs she used. There weren't too many of them, but they jumped out and demanded attention as forcefully as a rumble strip on a highway. Conan almost could have said that they made Satou sound like a cute tomboy, except that that description fit the adult woman as poorly as a school bow tie and pleated skirt would have.

"Religious stuff? Like what?" Ran asked.

"He was quoting something about clothes in the bible, and the 10 commandments, and stuff. Did he learn that from you? Are you very religious?" Satou asked. Her cup of tea was approximately half empty by this point

"Not us," Mouri said. He turned to look at Conan, "Where'd you pick up that stuff?"

"I don't know," Conan said, answering truthfully. He couldn't exactly remember where he had learned each of the plethora of random facts and details he knew. Rather than let Satou follow up, though, Conan quickly seized the initiative to try to direct the conversation in a direction he preferred. "Satou-keibu, didn't you learn a bunch of weird stuff as a kid?"

"I guess," Satou said.

Conan latched on to the opening as only a persistent child could. He asked, "Like what? I wanna know. I wanna know."

"Let's see. I learned some cooking, and tea ceremony, and ice skating..." Satou looked up in thought. "sewing, calligraphy, gardening..." Satou trailed off and returned her gaze back down to a more neutral direction. "A bunch of stuff. I guess you could say that I picked up some martial arts along the way."

"You know martial arts?" Ran asked with excitement. "What kind do you do?"

"I doubt you've heard of it. It's called the Anything Goes school of martial arts," Satou said.

Conan took a quick glance at Ran. Her face was still frozen in a pose of eager anticipation, and she had no reaction to Satou's naming.

When no response from the assembled group was forthcoming, Satou added, "It's a fighting style which mixes a bunch of techniques from other schools, like kempo and karate."

Ran eyes perked up a bit at that explanation. She said, "I see. I'm sure it's very good. You know, I have a black belt in karate myself."

Satou nodded in response to Ran's declaration. She said, "That's not too bad." She paused for a second, then continued, "Say, I'm not sure if you're interested, but did you hear about the upcoming martial arts tournament in Nerima?"

The name of the special ward seized Conan's attention. That was the same location in which Satou had supposedly grown up, and in which Councilman Tendo was a resident. If it was a mere coincidence, it was a rather big one.

"No. What tournament?" Ran asked. She lifted the serving tray still in her hands a bit higher and stepped closer to the group.

"There's a big martial arts tournament coming up next week, at Furinkan High School," Satou said.

"That's in Nerima, right?" Ran asked. "That's not too far away, is it?"

"You should go. It'll be a good opportunity to test yourself," Satou said. She put her tea cup down on the table in the center of the room. "But anyway, you were telling me about Conan's parents. How did you meet them?"

Conan definitely didn't like this new focus of the conversation, so decided to interrupt again. He loudly complained, "I'm hungry. When's dinner?"

"Annoying brat, show some respect," Mouri said. He shot a scowl at Conan, causing him to edge away from the potential knock to the head.

Ran had a slight frown on her face as she said to Satou, "Sorry, but do you think you could continue this another day? It's almost dinnertime."

"Uhh... sure," Satou said. She hesitantly drew herself to her feet, and was escorted to the front door by Ran.

Once the door was closed, Ran returned to Conan and said, "Sorry. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Can you wait that long?"

Conan responded with a general nod of assent, but he wasn't really paying attention to Ran. He was preoccupied with reflecting on the encounter he had just had with Satou. He wasn't sure what to think about it. He had learned a bit about the woman: a revised assessment of her language, the obscurity of her school of martial arts, the plethora of both traditional as well as non-traditional skills the woman had learned in her youth, and a suggestion that Nerima would be a good place to go investigating next. More worrisome, and most valuable, he had also learned that she was actively investigating him.

* * *

It was only after the door had closed behind Miwako that she realized that it had been Conan who had maneuvered Ran into dismissing her. Between that and the various antics Conan had undertaken during the Bank Manager's Wife's murder, it was becoming apparent that manipulating adults was a typical practice for the boy.

While she had been banished from the Mouri household far earlier than she would have liked, it hadn't been a complete loss. Miwako had received a bit more information about Conan. Besides confirmation of his manipulative nature, learning that his parents were from the United States was definitely a good lead. Unfortunately, it also meant that she would be severely limited in her potential sources of information.

Miwako left the apartment and returned to the office. She wanted to see what else Conan had been involved with over the years. She had included him in her writeup of the Parade Hostage Case, and also written a footnote of his presence in the Bank Manager's Wife's Murder Case. In addition to both of those cases, she also knew of his presence in the Castle Case and the Stadium Bomber Case. Given Conan's involvement with those four unrelated cases, there was good chance that Conan was involved in even more. After all, the only other civilian who had shown up in police work so frequently was the teenage detective Shinichi Kudo, and he was referenced in hundreds of cases.

The police headquarters was never fully empty any time of the day, but it was much quieter at night than during business hours. That was somewhat evident in the lobby, and it was very clear once Miwako entered the space allocated to Division 1. That area was ghostly. The blackness of night seeped in through the windows and quashed all feelings of warmth from the room, leaving the area feeling desolate and abandoned. The only other person in the office was Takagi, who was sitting at his desk with several piles of papers in front of him and pulling at his hair.

When Takagi saw Miwako enter, he quickly let go of his hair and tried to comb it back down. A look of panicked embarrassment ruined his attempts at being subtle. He stammered out, "S..Satou-san? Good evening. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to look something up. Something's been bugging me about that Parade Hostage Case. What about you? Why are you still here?"

"Nothing about the Tanaka Case makes any sense. All of the witnesses claim something different happened."

Miwako leaned over Takagi's shoulder to take a look for herself, placing one hand on the desk and the other on the back of Takagi's chair to brace herself. In front of him were four stacks of handwritten notes. The first witness claimed that the woman had sold a gun in the back alley to a man. The second witness contradicted this testimony, claiming that it had been the man who had been selling the gun and the woman who had been buying it. The third and fourth statements provided alibis for the man and the woman respectively, with the man supposedly being in a karaoke bar at the time in question, and the woman supposedly watching TV with a friend a few blocks away.

"Did you find any other evidence?" Miwako asked.

"Th..The responding officers found a box of pistols thrown on the ground when they arrived at the scene," Takagi said. His face had gone very red.

Miwako naturally turned her head to the side as she thought about the limited information available. It would have been so much easier if the arresting officers had caught the suspects at the scene, but both culprits had managed to escape the initial arrest. The officers were sure that the woman they had found hiding in a small bar had been one of them though. The man had been arrested as well when the woman had pointed him out as being the criminal salesman.

"It's pretty obvious that somebody's lying. Probably multiple people. I think we can ignore both of the alibis. I'm sure the seller would have an accomplice ready to lie for them. Maybe the buyer, too. I don't know about the two witnesses, though. Neither of them really has a reason to lie," Miwako said. She paused in thought for a few seconds before she gave up. "I don't know. Maybe you should try asking Shiritori-san or one of the other seniors tomorrow?"

"I guess I could," Takagi said. "I'm going to think about it a bit more first."

"Good luck." Miwako pushed herself back up to a fully standing position and took a step back. "By the way, I was wondering..."

Miwako then paused. She had been about to ask Takagi if he knew anything about the process to request information from the United States. She had never done it before, and she had no idea how to even begin such an unorthodox request. It probably involved something going up the chain of management, and then having some Japanese diplomats asking something of their counterparts in the United States, and then having the request go back down an even more convoluted chain of management on the American side.

"Yes?" Takagi quickly asked.

"Never mind," Miwako said. The more she thought about it, the more she figured checking with the Americans would be more trouble than it was worth. "Don't work too late."

Takagi let out a sigh and seemed to deflate.

Miwako left him hovering over his piles of papers and moved to the archives room to begin her search.

Half an hour of cross-referencing left Miwako stunned. Her intuition had not only proven to be correct, it was positively unbelievable how correct she had been. Conan had had a role in more cases than all but the most serial of criminals. In the past three months alone, just counting the cases in which he was a major witness already put the count at six. There were about a dozen more in which he had a more modest presence.

Conan's contact with crime was positively unbelievable. It rivaled the number of cases Miwako herself had to deal with, and it was her job to handle illegal activity. The implausibility of Conan's near-constant interaction with criminals was enough to make her wonder if he could have defiled some ancient ruin or angered some spirit at some point. She could easily imagine him suffering from some ancient and inexplicable curse.

Miwako gave one last skim through the records the police had on Conan. However, they revealed no other useful information. Besides the ridiculous number of cases Conan had been a party to, Miwako didn't see anything too special about him. No fines, no disputes, no notes. Conan's records were basically empty. One day he had simply appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Just like Miwako's own childhood records.

* * *

School was just as boring as it always was. Kobayashi was leading the class through some introductory mathematics exercises. That didn't matter to Conan in the least. It could just as easily have been civics, history, science, penmanship, or any other subject. No matter what she was teaching, it was banal enough as to be worthless for Conan to hear. He instead tried to ignore the teacher as best he could and let his mind wander.

All of his thoughts kept drifting back to Satou and her recent visit. He was sure she had come to their apartment purely to investigate him, but it wouldn't do any harm to ask Haibara if Satou had visited her as well. If nothing else, it would give him a chance to get Haibara's opinion on the situation. There was a definite chance that her different perspective would provide some insight Conan had missed. After all, beneath all of her cynicism and facades, Haibara was still the genius scientist who had created APTX-4869.

The first opportunity Conan had to actually consult with Haibara was at the start of lunch. He quickly pulled her aside and said, "She came and visited me at home yesterday."

Haibara gave him a flat look, and asked, "And which 'she' are you talking about this time?"

"The same one as before. Satou-keibu. Did she see you, too?"

"No."

"I'm telling you, there's something weird about her. Are you sure she isn't part of... them?" Conan asked. He took a reflexive look around him as he spoke, as if the mere allusion to the Black Organization would somehow summon them from the aether.

"Yes, I'm sure. I already told you. All of them have a 'smell' to them, and she doesn't have it," Haibara said.

"I wonder why she was so interested in me."

"Maybe she likes you." Haibara's face remained cool and impassive, even as she reached out and poked Conan on the nose with her finger.

"What're you two talking about?" Ayumi asked as she approached Conan and Haibara. Genta and Mitsuhiko were only a couple of steps behind her. As a general rule, wherever one of them went, the other two were sure to follow.

"Somebody likes Edogawa-kun," Haibara said before Conan could answer.

Ayumi's face took on a bright blush of embarrassment. Conan felt flustered as well, and said, "Don't put it like that."

"Then how would you describe it?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"It's Satou-keibu. Did she come and see any of you recently?" Conan asked.

"That's that detective from the kidnapping a few days ago, right?" Genta asked. "No, she didn't."

"Me neither," Ayumi said.

"She has not visited me as well. Did she visit you?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"She did last night," Conan said.

"That's weird," Ayumi said. "I'd think that she'd want to talk to Mitsuhiko-kun, not you."

"What did she ask you?" Genta asked. Before Conan could say anything, Genta continued, "Maybe she needs our help. We should go visit her at the station after school today."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Conan said, thinking quickly. "I'm sure if she needed our help, she'd ask."

"Weren't you planning on seeing that new Yaiba movie today?" Haibara asked. As much as she enjoyed seeing Conan squirm, Haibara was just as protective of the children as Conan was.

"Yeah, that's right!" Genta nearly cheered, joined in short order by a somewhat more reserved Ayumi and Mitsuhiko. Just like that, their attention wandered and Conan was safe. "You coming along? We never got to see it last time."

"Not me," Haibara said. She didn't even bother coming up with a plausible excuse about why she wasn't joining.

"How about you, Conan-kun?" Ayumi asked.

"Me neither. I'm going to go to a martial arts class with Ran-neechan," Conan said.

The hint of a frown touched Ayumi's face.

"What? I didn't think you were interested in such things," Mitsuhiko asid.

"She wanted me to come. She thought it would be fun," Conan said, hiding the fact that he had been the one to suggest it. Neither he nor Ran knew anything about the Anything Goes school of martial arts, so he wanted to ask around in a place with more knowledgeable experts.

Lunch ended without anything else of note happening, and classes resumed. Conan returned to his bored half-interrupted musings about Satou, the Black Organization, and the mystery of Haibara. How could Haibara stay so engaged, or at least project the appearance of being engaged, with the childishly simple lessons? He would need to discover her secret one of these days.

Once classes ended, Conan found Ran waiting for him outside the school gates. He bid farewell to the other members of the Detective Boys before following her to her martial arts class.

It had been easy to convince both Ran as well as Mouri to allow him come along. Ran had been so excited that Conan apparently shared her interest in martial arts that she had gone and bought a little karate gi for him to wear. It didn't matter that he wasn't actually going to participate in any lessons. In her mind, his eventual joining was inevitable, so it was better to be prepared. That he looked so adorable in the gi was only an added bonus.

Mouri had been even easier to convince. The prospect that Conan would be doing something which kept him out of the house and out of Mouri's way was all the justification the man needed. He was nodding enthusiastically throughout Ran's request, and had dug through his pockets for subway money before she had even finished her proposal.

Unfortunately, the class itself proved to be far less useful than Conan could have hoped for. Describing Satou to the teachers was fairly simple, red-haired women being a rarity in Japan, but his casual questioning revealed that nobody had heard of Satou, either by name or by description. The closest thing Conan found to a lead actually came from one of the students. He thought he had once heard something about an Anything Goes school of martial arts, but the only thing he vaguely remembered was that it was somehow related to the special ward of Nerima.

Despite the tenuous connection, that hesitant recollection was one more sign which pointed to Nerima. It was becoming increasingly clear that that would need to be Conan's next destination. Satou's mentioning of a martial arts tournament there would provide the perfect excuse, too. Conan just needed find some way to convince Ran to go.

* * *

Last Updated: April 17, 2018


	4. Chapter 4: Interest

Chapter 4: Interest

It was much harder for Conan to convince himself to go to the martial arts tournament in Nerima than it was to convince Ran. There were numerous reasons to avoid it, the foremost being the very real risk that it was a trap. However, if Satou really meant to harm him and those he knew, then she had already demonstrated that she knew where he lived.

Haibara's assertions that Satou wasn't a member of the Black Organization provided some minor assurance that her invitation wasn't some nefarious scheme. That Satou was an Assistant Detective Inspector in the police provided a bit more. Neither of these was anything close to being a reliable guarantee, though.

Ultimately, it was simply a question of what Satou's motives were. It could have been as simple as a shared interest between her and Ran. If that were the case, though, then it was a rather large coincidence, and Conan was naturally suspicious of coincidences. Too frequently, the fact that two cigarette butts were the same brand or the fact that two women had the same hair cut had revealed an underlying commonality which led to the revealing of a murderer. However, he couldn't think of any reason other than happenstance coincidence as to why Satou would have invited Ran to Nerima. It was as much of a mystery as Satou herself was.

That mystery was the reasoning which finally settled Conan on his course of action. If there was one thing Conan enjoyed, it was solving a mystery.

Once he had resolved himself on a course of action, it was simple to plant the suggestion for Ran to pick up. He whined a bit that he was bored, and he mentioned that he wanted to see Ran's karate skills "for real." Satou's invitation was recent enough, Nerima was close enough, and Ran liked karate enough that everything naturally fit together.

From there, Mouri's joining the trip was a given. He complained against the idea just as much as Conan had whined, but by that point the trip was already a foregone conclusion. Mouri wasn't about to deny his daughter such a benign event without a good reason, and he had no reason to deny her at all, good or otherwise. For all of his faults and inadequacies, nobody could be said to love his daughter more than Mouri did.

The journey to Nerima was as rapid as it was uninteresting. It felt unnaturally long, but that was more due to Conan's eager anticipation than it was due to any logistical limitation. He was eager to drink in all of the clues he could find on this trip, and his first glimpse of the special district did not disappoint him.

Overall, Nerima seemed to be a slightly poorer region than Beika was. Superficially it was fairly similar, but there were subtle discrepancies which led to a very different taste in the atmosphere. The plots of land were slightly larger and there was a bit more space all around, which created a general feeling of openness and underdevelopment. More influential, though, was the state of disrepair of all the buildings. The numerous patches in all the walls had been skillfully applied, but they still lent the area a feeling of dilapidation as compared to the rest of Tokyo.

As Nerima compared to Beika, Furinkan High School compared to Teitan High School. The building itself looked older and more worn, but the field surrounding it was huge. In a place like Tokyo, where space was at a premium, it spoke of either a huge budget or a long and storied history. Given the odd statue of what appeared to be a man climbing a coconut tree just inside the front entrance, it was more likely the former than the latter, although that raised the question of why the building itself was in such a worn state if they had such a large budget. Regardless, the size of the school's field made it a good place to hold a large public event, such as a martial arts tournament.

Scattered throughout the school grounds were plenty of eye-catching signs which piqued curiosity and raised excitement. Most prominent among them were the numerous advertisements publicizing the Tendo Law Office, which proudly declared a specialization in contracts and divorces.

More muted and more immediately useful were all the signs that gave directions to key locations around the event. There were a few signs indicating the way to a small food pavilion in the distance where numerous tents had been set up in a loose grid pattern. There was one sign which pointed to where the main event was being held, although the large sports field full of smaller arenas was almost impossible to miss. The most important sign pointed in the direction of the registration desk, which would necessarily be the starting location for any participant in the tournament.

Conan didn't have any particular avenue of investigation to explore on this trip, so as they walked, he simply observed everything he could. There was no telling what would prove to be useful in the future. So far, all the scant information he had found in Beika had pointed to Nerima, and now that he had arrived, he was eager to discover what he could find.

* * *

If Miwako had been tasked to organize a martial arts tournament, it likely would have ended up being a small affair in a rundown building in the middle of nowhere, more akin to an underground fighting ring than anything respectable as such. She simply didn't have any idea how to approach such a project. The only thing she really knew was the need to get a permit to host such an event, and that knowledge had only been incidentally picked up due to her work in the police.

She had naturally assumed that the same would be true for Ranma and Akane. Miwako knew she had had no experience organizing events of any kind, and therefore Ranma should also be ignorant in the subject. She was less sure of Akane's skills at event planning, but knew that back in high school, Akane had given no hint of having any organizational skills relevant to such an undertaking.

The lack of advertising Miwako had seen had only reinforced her assumption. Despite her close proximity to Nerima, Miwako hadn't even heard of the tournament outside of a happenstance encounter with Ryouga. The only publicity for the event that Miwako had encountered was the ones she herself had provided in a belated attempt to help Ranma and Akane in what she had been sure would be a ramshackle affair in need of all the assistance it could get.

In contrast to her expectations, the size of the event in front of Miwako served as a succinct demonstration that Ranma and Akane had learned just as much since graduating as Miwako herself had. People of all ages and skill levels were walking around in their various keikogi. She counted at least 100 visitors at a casual glance, and they represented the entire breadth of popular martial arts schools.

It wasn't merely the size of the crowd that was a surprise, either. The layout and polish of the tournament showed a fundamental understanding of event planning: the location of the food pavilion, the arrangement of the arena stages, and the placement of the various amenities allowed the smooth and intuitive flow of traffic. Even the selection of Furinkan High School itself as the location showed a casual insight into the logistics needed. The school yard could hold a crowd, and it had proven itself resilient against the rigors of a full-scale battle. The tents and arenas were all that was needed to transform the area to its new purpose. Everything looked as professional as any tournament Miwako had attended in her youth.

Miwako hesitated slightly before she entered the throng before her. She was honest enough with herself to both realize and acknowledge that she was nervous. It wasn't anything like entering a confrontation with an armed criminal, but it had been years since she had seen everybody from Nerima. Specifically, it had been years since she had seen Ranma, and it had been years since she had seen Akane. She wasn't sure which of the two prospects left her feeling more intimidated. It wasn't too late. She could turn around and leave with nobody being the wiser.

She quickly dismissed that idea and continued onward.

It was obvious she would see both Ranma and Akane here, but she wondered who else would be present. She could picture Ukyou running an okonomiyaki stand in one of those distant tents, while Shampoo was conniving some way to capture Ranma's heart in another. Or they both might have given up and left years ago, Shampoo back to her village in China and Ukyou back to the open road with her food cart. Both of those options, and a plethora more, were all equally possible. Miwako had no idea what had happened in Nerima since the last time Kasumi had called her, all those years ago.

Throughout the school grounds were pockets of interesting things which called back to her old life. The signs advertising the Tendo Law Office brought an involuntary smile to Miwako's face. Nabiki probably got enough business from Ranma alone to support her practice.

As if the very thought had summoned him, Miwako spotted Ranma from across the field. She halted in her tracks, a lump of exciting fear congealing in her stomach. Over the years, the boy had continued to grow, and now the man's tall height made his black pigtail easy to spot. That wasn't the only aspect of Ranma which had grown, either. His cocky bearing had somehow managed to increase even more over the years, and was now so prominent that she could see it despite the distance separating them. Knowing him, he probably had the skills to back it up, too.

At the same moment, Ranma glanced past Miwako, only to immediately snap back in an abrupt double-take. He must have seen her. While Miwako had not had the huge growth spurt after graduating that Ranma had apparently had, her vivid red hair made her stand out in the crowd just as much as Ranma's height and bearing did. He waved and immediately started rushing towards her. Miwako approached as well, albeit with much more trepidation.

As they got closer, Miwako got a better look at Ranma. The years had changed them both, but not to a substantial degree. Ranma still echoed the same face and posture Miwako saw every time she caught sight of herself in a mirror: the shape of their noses, the angle of their ears, the curve of their eyes, and even the way they held their hands. Ignoring the obvious fact that Miwako's shapely figure would have been out of place on a man, they were practically identical. A stranger would have easily guessed that they were brother and sister. Such a guess would have been incorrect, underestimating the closeness of their actual relationship.

Miwako thought furiously about how she should greet Ranma as they neared talking distance. Waving to him felt weird, as did punching him, bowing to him, and shaking hands with him. How was she supposed to greet somebody who was closer to her than an identical twin, and in a very real way was her?

Once she couldn't reasonably delay it any longer, Miwako settled on saying, "You're still wearing that pigtail?"

Ranma stopped, stared, and then said, "Still wearing... wait a second..." He shook his head. "You're Miwako, aren't you? Of course you are." He nodded. "So I haven't seen you for what, ten years, and that's the first thing you have to say?"

"Would you have preferred," Miwako took a deep breath and shouted as loud as she could, "Ranma! Because of you I've seen hell! Prepare to die!"

In a more normal Tokyo district, a shout like that would have grabbed everybody's attention and maybe resulted in a hurried call to the police. In Nerima, all it warranted was a few interested glances and some quiet shuffling of nearby bystanders to avoid being caught in any potential crossfire.

"Well, that would be traditional," Ranma said, his face breaking out into a grin. "And for your information, I quite like my pigtail."

"It's kind of girly," Miwako said. She had been only too willing to lose it once she had been split from the male Ranma, especially for the good cause its cutting had served. Back then, she had had more than enough reminders of her permanent femininity. It was surprising that Ranma, whose life had once depending on being found to be a man among men, still kept his hair in that style.

"Like you're one to talk," Ranma said.

"I am," Miwako said.

Ranma then surprised Miwako by grabbing her into a hug. He said, "It's great to see you again."

Miwako had not expected such an emotional gesture from the man, and she tried to take it with good grace. It only lasted for a second before he released her.

She took the opportunity to ask the question which was foremost on her mind, and probably the single biggest reason why she had come in the first place. "So how are things going between you and her?" Both of them knew to whom Miwako was referring.

"They're fine," Ranma said.

"I heard you haven't married yet. What happened?" Miwako asked. She had to weigh her words carefully. On the one hand, she had no desire to be like Tendo and the Panda, who were always pressuring Ranma and Akane to get married. On the other hand, the question demanded an answer. The constant reminder that she could never have been with Akane had been the main reason why Miwako had left Nerima in the first place.

"Life happened. You know how these things go," Ranma said, shaking his head.

Miwako did know exactly how those things went, having lived through the countless fiancees, kidnappings, sabotaged dates, ghostly possessions, and everything else Ranma had experienced in his first year in Nerima. She also knew that it was only a lame excuse. Moreover, they both knew she knew it.

"Sure, right. Things happen," Miwako said with a scoff. "You at least told her you love her, right?"

"Uhh..." Ranma said. "Yeah. Of course I have."

There was just a bit too much hesitation and ambiguity in Ranma's answer. It was far from the confident declaration Miwako would have expected if he had told the full truth. She paused an equally brief time in thought, and then said, "Besides at Jusendo."

"... She knows."

A flash of warning. A line rapidly being crossed. The look Ranma directed to Miwako was perfectly understood.

"Okay. It's your life," Miwako said. "Just remember. You never know when something might happen, to you or to her. Don't not do something you'll regret." Miwako had lost count of the number of sudden deaths she had encountered throughout her duties in Division 1, each leaving behind countless loose threads and unanswered questions.

"Ehh... you've gone paranoid in your old age. Things like that don't happen in real life," Ranma said, a more self-assured grin reappearing on his face. "You know how it goes. Even that thing with Saffron. I'm the best. I always save the day in the end."

A string of countless murdered lovers flashed through Miwako's head. It was immediately followed by the equally long string of left-behind survivors she had had to interview as a result. The tears. The grieving. All of it forcibly ignored in favor of the active investigation demanded by her job. She never got to see the healing, only the pain.

Miwako said in a quiet voice, "No... you really can't."

"... Okay." Ranma said in a far more subdued voice. His confident smirk was now marred by the quirk of doubt. More forcefully, he continued, "But enough of that. I'm sure you're here to join the tournament. The special tournament, of course. We got to get you registered. The prize is a new technique I created. It's based on building repair. You know how the dojo gets all those holes all the time, right? I finally did something about it."

Miwako gave a slight shake of her head. She said, "I'm not competing. I'm just here to watch."

"Oh. Right. Of course. Let's just have a quick spar, then. We got a hidden arena all set up to keep out spectators, so you can show off any new secret techniques you made. I got to see what you've come up with. Anything Goes martial arts traffic direction? Anything Goes martial arts... ticket... writing?" Ranma asked. He grabbed Miwako's hand and started pulling her towards the gym.

Miwako didn't let herself get pulled away. She said, "We really shouldn't. I haven't kept up much with my martial arts." There was still the hours of practice, but that was more maintenance than any serious effort to get better. Overall, her skills hadn't improved much beyond what they had been in school, and in a few ways, they had even degraded.

"You what?" Ranma dropped Miwako's hand and spun to face her. "What happened? Did somebody cast some wish, or hit a pressure point on you or something? Why haven't you fixed it? Tofu-sensei's somewhere around here. Let's go find him. I'm sure he can help." The only reason Ranma would give up martial arts was if he literally couldn't do it anymore, and it was natural that he would think the same of Miwako.

"Life happened," Miwako said. "I need to pay for food somehow, and it's not like I'm the heir to a martial arts school with a dojo."

"I... guess so..."

It was strange to think what her life would have been like if she had been the one to end up as Ranma, if she hadn't been the one shunted away from her prescribed path and instead been forced to experience the freedom to find her own way. She was staring at clear evidence of how dramatic an impact a single event could make. She could have been the one to continue to grow as a martial arts expert, creating techniques and running tournaments to teach and grow the art, all the while surrounded by old friends, rivals, and complications. It was very eerie, and yet very liberating at the same time.

"Satou-keibu, is that you?" a girl's voice called out, interrupting Miwako's philosophical speculations and causing her to turn and look.

Three people were walking towards her. Miwako immediately recognized Conan, the strange detective boy who had caught her attention so recently. With that reminder, it was an easy matter to recognize Ran and Mouri as well.

Ranma stepped towards the approaching trio, and said, "A new face? I don't think I've seen you before. What school do you practice?" The height difference of the three approaching people made it obvious that Ranma's question had been addressed to Conan.

The boy looked to his left, right, and behind him in confusion. He then pointed at himself and asked, "Who, me?"

"Yeah. You're here for the tournament, right? I'm guessing you use lots of weapons. Projectiles? I got some extra barriers we can get set up before your fight if we need to," Ranma said.

"I already told that onee-san at the registration desk. I'm just a kid. I don't do any martial arts. I only came here to watch Ran-neechan. She's the martial artist," Conan said, his voice somehow sounding an octave too high.

"If you say so," Ranma said. He cast a skeptical glance towards Miwako.

Miwako gave a noncommittal shrug back to Ranma's unvoiced question. She felt the same ineffable ambiance of skill from the boy, but she had no meaningful contribution to provide.

Ranma turned back to Conan and asked, "I see. And who did you say you were again?"

As the only person who knew everybody, Miwako interrupted, and said, "Let me make some introductions." Miwako gestured towards Ranma. "This here is Ranma Saotome."

"Saotome-san? You're the one whose running this whole thing?" Mouri asked.

"That's right, along with Akane-chan," Ranma said.

"And this is Conan Edogawa. Conan-kun's a major witness in a recent case of mine. These two are Kogoro Mouri and Ran Mouri, his guardians," Miwako continued. "I invited them to come after I heard about this tournament from Ryoga. I thought you could use the help with spreading the word." She took another look around at the large crowd surrounding the area, and said, "I guess not."

Ranma turned to look at Miwako, and said, "Eh... we can always use help. The more publicity, the better." He then turned around again, this time to face Ran, and said, "So, you're the one participating, then? Hmm... I'm guessing... karate, maybe a black belt 3-dan... plus some unofficial Judo thrown in?"

Ran's eyes grew large, and she said, "Wow, that's really close. How'd you know that?"

"It's just something you pick up over the years. It's not that hard, once you got the experience," Ranma said with a shrug. His facade of modest dismissal wasn't convincing in the least. Miwako could practically feel his pride at the praise glowing around him.

"So you two know each other?" Conan asked.

"You could say that. We used to be pretty close. You could say we were inseparable once," Ranma said with a grin. The play on words was obvious, but it still managed to bring an identical grin to Miwako's face as well. "Anyway, I'd love to stick around and chat, but there's all sorts of stuff I gotta do. A referee's work is never done. Let me know if you change your mind on the sparring, Miwako."

"You're not participating?" Miwako asked. She was just as surprised that Ranma wasn't participating in the tournament as Ranma had been surprised that Miwako wasn't.

"We got lots of people like Pantyhose here. Nobody else is good enough to stop them all if they get out of hand," Ranma said. The boastful pride in his voice stood out even through his obvious disappointment.

"Where on Earth am I now!" the faint voice of Ryouga could be heard in the distance.

"See what I mean? I'd better go get Ryouga before he ends up in Tibet again," Ranma said, and then jogged away. As he was leaving, he called out behind him, "Be sure to drop by the registration tent. Akane-chan should be there. I'm sure she'd like to see you, too."

Conan reached up and tugged at Ran's shirt. Then, in an eager voice reminiscent of Ranko Tendo on a particularly bad day, he said, "Hey, hey. We should show Satou-keibu how to get to the registration place. She might get lost, too!"

"Okay, okay," Ran said. She looked up at Miwako and said, "We just got back from there. If you want, I can show you where to go."

"Thanks," Miwako said. The offer was a friendly one, but it was bit silly as well. They were standing right in front of a sign which pointed in the direction to the registration desk. Nevertheless, it would provide a good opportunity to observe Conan, and Miwako was more than willing to take advantage.

Ran, Mouri, and Conan all turned around, with Miwako following just behind them through the field.

"So you're all registered? When's your first match?" Miwako asked.

"At 12:30," Ran said.

Mouri checked his watch and said, "That's only an hour from now. Are you sure you don't need to get ready?"

"I already told you. An hour is plenty of time. I only need a couple of minutes to change and warm up," Ran said. "I'm more worried about Satou-keibu. Aren't you worried you're going to be late? Registration ends soon."

"Nah. I'm not participating myself. It's been a long time since I've really practiced my martial arts. I only came here to meet some people," Miwako said. That era of her life had ended long ago. She couldn't remember the last time she had seriously gone all-out against a real opponent. All of her encounters in the past few years had been similar to her recent confrontation against Mitsuhiko's kidnapper: a brief encounter against an inferior foe. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a prolonged duel against an opponent of similar or superior skill.

Ran said, "Aww... That's too bad. I was hoping there would be more women in the tournament. Almost everybody else here's a man."

"Well, there are a lot more men than women martial artists," Miwako said.

"I guess, but still, didn't you ever feel out of place back when you were training?" Ran asked.

Miwako laughed at the idea. "All the time, but never because of that." Stealing from a monastery, or running through the woods with slabs of meat strapped to her back. Compared to those things, who cared what gender somebody was? Besides, she had been a boy back then, too.

"Hey, who are those people you're meeting?" Conan asked.

The question caused Miwako to slow for a moment in thought. How could she even begin to describe them all? The awkward love of her childhood. The woman who had crossed the ocean to kill her. The man who had also tried to kill her in order to free his unrequited love interest. The woman whose girlhood had been stolen by a callous thief and an ignorant boy. The man whose boyhood had been squashed by his cruel step-family. Countless others. All of the people who had been so important to her life in Nerima.

"Just some old friends," Miwako said.

The group was approaching the registration desk at this point. It was in a medium sized tent, with some tables in front, and enough space in the back for the three people standing there. Of the people behind the tables, one of them was somebody who Miwako didn't recognize at all. The second person was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had been one of Nabiki's friends in school, Sayaka or Suzune or something. However, the third person was somebody Miwako couldn't help but recognize, and the sight of her former fiancee stopped Miwako in her tracks.

Akane's appearance had changed since graduation. She had grown taller over the years, and she now stood over half-a-head taller than Miwako. That wasn't the only way she had grown, either. Her muscular build spoke of years spent in a dojo, and Miwako had no doubt which of the two of them would win in an arm-wrestling contest. Unchanged was Akane's very-functional bob cut, and her relatively ordinary looking face which hid the cutest smile in the world.

Miwako's heart caught in her throat at the sight. She stood there, trying to think of what to say. A simple "Good morning" felt too ordinary. Saying "I'm home" felt wholly inappropriate. Maybe "Hey, you uncute tomboy" would work.

She hesitated a bit too long and the decision was taken out of her hands. Akane caught sight of her, and then called out with delight, "Nadeshiko-chan, so you did decide to come. It's great to see you."

Akane was looking straight at Miwako, but the greeting meant nothing to her. She turned to look around, just in case she had been mistaken and Akane had been addressing somebody behind her. There was nobody there. Confused, she turned back to Akane and asked, "Uhh... what?"

Akane's eyes grew large, and she exclaimed, "Nadeshiko-chan! What'd you do to your pigtail? What does Kuno... Wait... You're not Nade... ... Mi..Miwako?"

"Yeah, it's me, Akane."

"Miwako!" Akane vaulted over the registration desk, scattering a couple of papers in her wake, and enveloped Miwako in an emphatic hug. For her part, Miwako returned the hug with a show of emotion she would never have displayed as a teenager. "I haven't seen you in years. Why didn't you call?"

The answer was complicated. Miwako could have visited the Tendo Dojo if she had wanted to, let alone the ease of placing a phone call. However, she could never make herself do so. Nobody had ever seemed that interested in her, instead being more caught up with Ranma and what was always happening around him. Only Kasumi had actually seen her off on the day she had left Nerima, and even Miwako's occasional conversation with the eldest Tendo sister had trailed off as the months had turned into years. Everybody in Nerima had their own lives to live, and Miwako couldn't help but feel like she fit in with them as naturally as an outhouse fit in with a summer festival.

More than anything else, though, Miwako hadn't wanted the reminder of Akane, and of the engagement to her that Miwako had lost. She would never have admitted it back in school, nor was she sure she had even realized it back then, but she loved Akane. She had loved Akane for a long time. It was only when she could no longer have her that Miwako realized how much she wanted to.

Miwako decided to not actually answer the question. She instead said, "It's been a while, you uncute tomboy."

"Miwako, you idiot," Akane said, completing the ritual. She playfully rapped Miwako's head with a knuckle before slowly releasing the hug.

"I guess they know each other," Mouri said.

"Do you know these people?" Akane asked Miwako.

"Kind of. This is Conan Edogawa, Kogoro Mouri, and Ran Mouri. They're from Beika City. Conan-kun's a witness in a recent case of mine, and these two are his guardians. I found out that Ran-chan here is a martial artist, and I invited them to come," Miwako said, repeating an introduction similar to the one she had given to Ranma earlier. She then turned to the residents from Beika City. "And this is Akane Tendo. She's one of the organizers of this tournament and..." Miwako struggled to think of the right term to use, but settled on the same generic description she had used before, "...an old friend." The description suddenly felt so much less adequate than it had before.

"Nice to meet you," Conan, Mouri, and Ran all said, with an appropriate greeting bow.

Akane returned the bow, and said, "Nice to meet you too." She then knelt down to bring herself to eye-level with Conan, and asked in the slightly raised pitch adults used when talking to children, "So you're a witnesses? What happened? Was there some speeding car or something? Was it scary?"

Miwako's winced, both at the faux pas as well as what it represented. It proved that it really had been far too long since she had spoken with Akane. The only consolation to the situation was that Conan had not seemed especially bothered by seeing the hostage taker hold Mitsuhiko at gunpoint. After all the cases he had experienced, it was doubtful Conan was too traumatized by yet one more violent crime.

Even so, Miwako did want to clarify things before Akane said something she might come to regret once she learned the truth. She said, "Not exactly. I transferred out of the Traffic Bureau a few years ago. I'm in Criminal Investigations now, in Division 1. The crime here is a bit more serious than that."

"Division 1? What do they do?" Akane asked.

"They investigate crimes with guns, and homicides," Mouri said. He immediately clarified, "Murders."

"Oh. Ohhh..." Akane said. She turned pale and stood up again. "Sorry." She hastily changed the subject, asking Ran, "So Miwako invited you here? You should have said something. You hide your skill very well. Come on, I'll get you changed to the special tournament." She turned and leaned over the registration table.

"Special tournament? There's two of them?" Ran asked.

"Of course. You didn't really think you'd be fighting against all them, did you?" Akane asked, gesturing to the random crowd walking around the area. "We have an open tournament for the public to promote our dojo, but the special tournament's the big one. The prize is a new martial arts technique Ranma made," Akane said.

Miwako quickly interjected. She said, "You'd better keep her in the regular one. I don't think she could handle the special one."

"What are you talking about? Let me in the special one. I can handle it. I'm a black belt in karate, you know," Ran said, her insistent voice on the border of being a shout. She stood with her hands akimbo as she directed a challenging glare at Akane.

"Oh? Hmm... Okay, here. Try to hit me," Akane said. She moved into a ready stance. It was substantially different from the stances that Miwako and Ranma favored. Akane was solidly braced on the ground, more ready to endure a hurricane than to try to escape it. If anything, it was vaguely reminiscent of how Ryoga fought.

Akane's motion of getting into a fighting stance was a simple one, but it spoke volumes. She had improved a great deal over the years, but not as much as Miwako had guessed based on both the amount of time which had passed as well as Akane's increased musculature. By this point, Akane almost certainly had more practice than Miwako herself did. However, Miwako's own fluid style of martial arts, which focused on individual opponents rather than larger crowds, was a particularly good counter to Akane's, which favored the reverse. That, in addition to Miwako's own raw talent, might have been just enough to see her through a duel against Akane.

Ran hesitated in the face of Akane's invitation. She asked, "Are you sure?"

Akane said, "Yes, I'm ready. Just hit me."

"If you're sure," Ran said hesitantly. She settled into a karate stance, and then launched a probing punch towards Akane. It was a half-hearted attempt, and her lack of conviction made it slow and predictable.

Akane didn't even bother shifting her weight. She merely nudged her head to the side, causing Ran's fist to completely miss her. It was reminiscent of how a young red-haired girl had reacted to an equally young Akane on a fateful rainy day in Nerima. Apparently Akane had picked up some things from Ranma over the years, as was befitting a practitioner of Anything Goes martial arts.

"You're going to have to try for real. Don't worry about hurting me. I've been doing this since I was younger than Conan-kun," Akane said.

A frown crossed Ran's face, and she settled back into a ready position again. She bounced twice on the balls of her feet, and then kicked at Akane with a loud shout.

Akane stood there unmoving as the foot approached. Suddenly, a tonfa appeared in her hand, seemingly out of nowhere. She held the wooden bar parallel to her forearm and moved down to intercept Ran's kick. The blow was easily deflected, having no visible effect on Akane's body. Akane then swung her weapon outward in retaliation.

The wooden bar stopped just short of Ran's throat. It had happened in the blink of the eye, leaving Ran staring down at Akane's outstretched weapon. If Akane had wanted to, she could have crushed Ran's windpipe.

Miwako had to revise her assessment. Akane had moved faster than she had expected, and the appearance of the tonfa had been a smooth and well-practiced motion. It appeared that Akane did now have a decisive edge relative to her.

"Don't feel bad. I am a master of the Tendo School of Anything Goes martial arts. I've been working with the best for years. You did really good for a black belt, but I think you'd better stick to the public tournament," Akane said. She lowered her tonfa to her side.

"Wow, that was really amazing," Conan said with childish glee. "Is that Anything Goes? Where can I learn it?"

"Only two families practice it, the Tendos and the Saotomes, and both of them are at the Tendo Dojo. Here." Akane took an advertisement handbill off the registration table and handed it to Conan. "All ages welcome."

The handbill was a relatively simple sheet of paper. It had an logo on the top of it, and a block of text describing the location, prices, and package deals written on its bottom. Despite the banality of the handbill, Conan stared at it intently.

"Was that a bit of Hidden Weapons style I saw?" Miwako asked.

"I may have picked up a bit over the years," Akane said impishly.

"You've gotten a lot better," Miwako said with a nod.

"Not as much as the others," Akane said. She swiped her arm behind her back. When she pulled it back into view, her hand was once again empty. "But come on. Time's wasting. Let's get you registered at least. We're finalizing the brackets right now, and I'm sure you don't want to miss out."

"You'd better not. I'm not actually competing," Miwako said. She braced herself.

Akane stopped cold, and whipped around to face Miwako. While not as extreme as Ranma's reaction, she still had a look which was somewhere between astonishment and disbelief. She asked, "What? You're not competing?"

"I haven't really stayed much in practice," Miwako said, repeating the same explanation she had told Ranma earlier.

"Right. Just like you do 'a little karate,' I'm sure," Akane said, sending a look of skeptical challenge at Miwako as she spoke.

Miwako tilted her head and gave a small shrug in acknowledgement. She said, "Okay. Fine. I do still practice a bit, but I doubt I could keep up with somebody like Ryoga, or even Mousse. It all seemed less important after losing... well, you know..." Miwako still regretted the loss of the heir-ship to the Saotome School of Anything Goes martial arts, but she valued the freedom that loss had brought with it even more. "I only came here to see everybody."

"Really? I guess you two really are different. I mean, besides the obvious," Akane said.

"So it seems," Miwako said. She wasn't sure if it was that she had changed, or if it was that Ranma had changed. It was probably both.

"Well, if you're here to meet everyone, the least I can do is show you around. Sayori-chan, can you take care of things here? I'm going to bring Miwako to the food plaza," Akane said to one of the women behind the counter.

"Will do."

"Food? Can we go too? I'm hungry," Conan whined. From behind the child, Ran gave an apologetic shrug and silent plea to Akane and Miwako.

"Sure. I don't mind," Akane said, and then started to lead the small group to the tents in the distance.

As they walked, Miwako asked the question which had been on her mind since she had been reunited with Akane. "Who is that Nadeshiko person you called me earlier?"

"Nadeshiko-chan? She's one of my students, and she's kind of Kuno-sempai's girlfriend. Nabiki-oneechan found her somewhere, and introduced her to him. She also looks almost identical to you. It caused all sorts of problems until everybody learned she really wasn't you. Ranma must have whacked her on the head 20 times before he finally figured it out. It took her weeks to forgive him," Akane said.

Miwako stopped and stared at Akane in shock. The revelation that Kuno had found a girlfriend who looked like Miwako was weird, but it was the kind of weirdness she had come to expect from both Nerima in general and the Kuno family in particular. After experiencing the insanity of Kuno on a nearly daily basis back in Nerima, Miwako would have been prepared to believe pretty much anything about him: that he had received a Jusenkyo curse, that he was running for Prime Minister, and that he had squandered the entire Kuno fortune to buy a Hawaiian island and was in the middle of a lawsuit to expel everybody else off of it. There was literally nothing the man could do which would surprise Miwako.

It wasn't Kuno who had left Miwako dumbstruck. It was Akane.

Miwako's mouth moved in silent uselessness for several seconds until she managed to gather her wits enough to ask, "You're still in contact with Kuno?"

Akane said, "I know what it sounds like, but he's calmed down a lot. I guess the business world suits him better than the school world did, and Nadeshiko-chan's been good for him. She got him to stop his two-timing, and he's actually a pretty decent person when he's not trying to beat you up and date you."

Ran asked, "'And?' Not 'or?'"

"'And.' Kuno was kind of crazy," Miwako said. "Still, it's funny. I had always assumed that he would end up with Nabiki."

"Who? Me?" a voice sounded from just behind the group. "With Kuno-chan? Really? Please. Money's nice and all, but there are some things you just can't buy."

Miwako turned to the newly-arrived woman and asked, "Wait. Who are you? I mean, you look like Nabiki, and you sound like Nabiki, but I can't imagine the girl who refused to spend 10 yen to refuel a plummeting helicopter ever saying anything that."

Nabiki had grown her hair out, such that it now stopped just above her shoulders. She also wore a pair of glasses now. Both combined to give her a much more mature and intellectual look than she had had back in school. Unchanged, though, was the look of fierce calculation constantly running behind her eyes as she analyzed every situation.

"That's not fair," Nabiki said, emotions heavy in her voice. "That's different. It was a competition, and don't tell me you haven't done anything stupid for a competition before."

Back in school, Miwako would have instantly yielded to Nabiki's frown and quivering lip. Since then, she had become much better at handling a woman's tears. She had had to. It was amazing what people would stoop to to get out of a traffic ticket, to say nothing of trying to escape an accusation of murder. Miwako simply said, "Not anymore. Those days are long behind me. I'm sure that Ranma can defend the honor of the Anything Goes school now, as it were. And Akane-chan too, of course."

Akane gave a slight nod of approval.

"You could say the same for me," Nabiki said, all trace of sadness gone from her voice. "Growing up really puts things in perspective, doesn't it? Childish things for children. Adult things for adults." She handed over a business card.

"What is that? Can I see?" Conan asked. He jumped up to catch a glance.

"You can have one, too," Nabiki said. She handed a second card to Conan.

Miwako didn't even bother glancing at the card. She instead gestured to a nearby advertisement sign, and said, "I saw. I figured that was you, and you're a lawyer now, but what's with the 'specializing in contracts and divorces?'"

"I thought there'd be a future in it," Nabiki said with a tilt of her head and raised eyebrows. "I can't say I've been disappointed so far. I always end up with a few cases after each of these tournaments."

"Divorces? Here, let me see," Mouri said. He made a grab for the card Conan was still holding, only to be intercepted by Ran.

"Father, I'm sure you don't need it, right?" Ran said more than asked. She stood between Mouri and Conan with her arms akimbo, looking every bit like the scolding mother who had caught her son in the act of stealing some cookies.

"Nobody ever thinks they need a good lawyer, until they do," Nabiki said with a wink. She deftly positioned herself between Ran and Mouri and slid a third card into one of his pockets. "Here. Just in case."

"Nabiki-oneechan's a really good lawyer. She's helping us with the situation we're having with that idiot, Ryu-kun," Akane said. She then turned back to Nabiki and said, "We're headed to the food pavilion. I'm sure Ukyou-chan would be interested in seeing Miwako again. Care to come?"

"I have a meeting in a bit, but I have a few minutes until then," Nabiki said as she turned to follow.

The heady mixture of spices and grilled foods fill the air as they approached their destination. Miwako's mouth started to water in response. She had never outgrown the prodigious appetite of her youth.

"So what is the deal with Ryu, anyway?" Miwako asked. "Ryoga mentioned something about him and some situation, but he didn't give me much detail."

Akane let out a sigh. She said, "It's a right mess is what it is. Apparently Saotome-san ended up promising Ryu-kun his daughter and her dojo..."

"But he doesn't even have a dojo! Or a daughter!" Miwako exclaimed. Each time she heard of another one of the Panda's debacles, she became slightly more satisfied with her decision to part company with him.

"Yes. Regardless, that's still the source of the problem," Nabiki said. "If Akane-chan and Ranma-kun were to marry, then Akane-chan would become his daughter-in-law. Then Ryu-kun would have a claim to both her and to the Tendo Dojo. Obviously she wouldn't be forced to divorce and marry him, but the status of the Tendo Dojo is much less obvious. Their marriage would probably work against them, as the court would probably be inclined to give Ryu-kun as much of the rest of the agreement it could as some kind of compensating balance out of sympathy."

"You're kidding, right? That can't be how it works," Miwako said. "How could an agreement that the Panda made be applied to a completely different family?"

"That's what I thought, too, but there's all sorts of agreements and exceptions, and don't even get me started on that stupid napkin Ryu-kun keeps waving around. Nabiki-oneechan's been helping us out, but you remember how these things happen, right?" Akane asked. The crushing pressure of convolutions and complications weighed on both her voice as well as her face.

Miwako wanted to disagree further, but she couldn't. She did know exactly how these things happened. She had been the victim of the Panda's machinations and shortsightedness more times than she could count. The Panda would have made a promise, either without thinking about it or with some malicious design behind it. Ryu would have been taken in, either willingly or through trickery. The Panda would then make a handy escape and leave whoever happened to be around to bear the consequences. As was typical, Ranma was the person who happened to be around. In this case, it sounded like the Tendos were collateral damage.

"That sounds terrible. My mom's a lawyer. I'm sure she could help," Ran said.

"She is? Who is she?" Nabiki asked.

"Eri Mouri," Ran said, then hesitated, and added, "although she uses the name Eri Kisaki at work now."

"Kisaki-sensei? You mean that big criminal defense lawyer?" Nabiki said. She gave a low whistle.

Nabiki wasn't the only one who was impressed. Miwako had heard of Kisaki as far back as when she had been in the Traffic Bureau, although she had not realized Kisaki was related to Ran or the others. Kisaki was a top class lawyer whom everybody in Criminal Investigations feared facing. Miwako had only had the displeasure of her opposition once. In the abstract, it had been good that Miwako's mistaken arrest had been resolved and the real culprit of the smuggling operation had been found. Even so, it had still been galling to have her various mistakes and oversights pointed out in excruciating detail.

"Well, if it's Kisaki-sensei, maybe she can help. I doubt a criminal lawyer will know that much about contract law, but by this point, I'll take all the help I can get. I've been working on this case in my spare time for over a year, and it shows no sign of getting any better. Have her give me a call," Nabiki said. She deftly handed Ran yet another one of her business cards.

"What if it were Ranma who marries into the Tendo clan instead of the reverse? Won't that solve everything?" Miwako asked. Exceptional times called for exceptional measures, and Ranma was the poster child of exceptions.

In the distance, a person wearing large baggy robes passed between two tents. It was far from conclusive, seeing how they were at a martial arts tournament and those always brought out all sorts of people. However, Miwako couldn't help but remember that that was also the distinctive clothes favored by Mousse, the Hidden Weapons martial arts expert and one of the Chinese Amazons who had caused her innumerable problems in the past. The person was still too far away to be sure of any details, but Akane was rapidly leading the group closer.

Nabiki sighed. "That was the first thing I thought of, but it wouldn't work. Ryu-kun would still have enough of a claim to cause us all sorts of nightmares. A more promising possibility would be if Ranma-kun got himself disowned first, but he refuses to consider it."

"Why not? It's basically the same thing as when... well... you know..." Miwako said, remembering at the last second that Conan and the others were still walking next to them.

Akane and Nabiki both shrugged in response.

The person Miwako had noticed earlier was now close enough to see clearly. It was indeed Mousse, along with two other people she didn't recognize. One of his companions was a remarkably tall man wearing some glasses who looked like he was nearing his 50s. He wore a buttoned shirt and a pair of trousers so well-ironed that its creases looked like they could hold a cutting edge. Mousse's other companion was a woman who was fairly tall as well. She wore a baggy shirt and trousers, both of which neither flattered nor detracted from her very ordinary appearance. She was draped over Mousse's arm in a way which reminded Miwako far too much of Shampoo. Mousse suffered the clinging with a forbearance that Ranma had never shown to Shampoo's glomps. Despite her unbalanced position, the woman still maintained her poise and readiness to react to an incoming attack.

"I think that's Mousse over there," Miwako quietly warned Akane. She subtly pointed over to the three people she had seen. It was rare for anything but trouble to come with the Chinese Amazons, and it was best to avoid them whenever possible. With Mousse's poor eyesight, it would be easy to do.

"Is it? You're right, it is," Akane said. She then waved dramatically while calling out, "Hey, Mousse-san! Over here!"

That reaction was another surprise. Miwako asked, "Since when have you been on such good terms with the Mousse?"

"Ever since Shampoo-san finally gave up on Ranma," Akane said.

It took a second for Miwako to convince herself that she hadn't misheard Akane. She never would have guessed that Shampoo, the same girl who had chased her and the Panda across both China as well as the Sea of Japan on a mission of murder, the same girl who had tried so many schemes and magics in an attempt to ensnare her years ago, would just give up on Ranma.

Miwako was still trying to reset her world view when Mousse got close enough to talk, He said, "Good morning. Nice to see you, too, Nadeshiko-san. I thought you said you weren't coming today."

"I'm not Nadeshiko," Miwako said out of reflex.

"Nadeshiko-san?" Mousse asked. He adjusted his glasses, and then leaned in towards Miwako. She could see him squinting through his thick eye-wear. "What happened to your pigtail?" His uncomfortably close stare was more of a comfort than an irritant to Miwako. Mousse's near-blindness proved that even in this upside-down world, some things stayed constant.

"I said, 'I'm not Nadeshiko,'" Miwako said.

"This is Miwako. You know. From... before..." Akane said, trailing off towards the end.

"Uhh... Oh! Ran... I mean, Miwako-san. I didn't expect to see you here. It's been, what, years?"

"I almost didn't come. Akane-chan and Ranma need to do a better job of advertising these things. I didn't even know about this tournament until last week when I ran into Ryouga and he mentioned it to me," Miwako said, intentionally misinterpreting Mousse's comments and trying to deflect attention from her prolonged lack of contact with everybody in Nerima.

The woman who had been clinging to Mousse's arm detached herself and pointed a challenging finger at Miwako. "Who this person?"

"This is Miwako... Miwako... uhh..." Mouse hesitated.

"Miwako Satou," Miwako said. She doubted anybody actually remembered the surname she had selected all those years ago. She had used it rarely enough back in school, and it had been years since then. In fact, there was a good chance that Mousse had forgotten her given name as well prior to Akane's prompting of it.

"That's right. Miwako Satou. She's kind of a friend, I guess, from a few years ago," Mousse said. Miwako half-nodded to the description. She wasn't exactly sure how she would have described their relationship either. "And I think you both know Akane-san and Nabiki-san already. This is Lo Xian. She's one of the members of my tribe from China. And this is Jiro Yamata. He's the immigration officer who's working on our case."

"Immigration officer? Why do you have an immigration officer?" Miwako asked.

"Sorry, I need to go. I'll catch up with you later," Nabiki said. Without waiting for acknowledgement, she hustled away in the direction of the gym. A few people gave Nabiki's back a perfunctory goodbye.

Mousse mostly ignored Nabiki's departure, instead answering Miwako's question by saying, "Because we're immigrating. Things are pretty good here in Japan. It's nice to not need to worry about stuff like a bad harvest or a border raid from the Musk."

"Indoor plumbing too too good," Lotion said. She had lowered her accusatory arm, but still looked at Miwako with narrowed eyes.

"You talk a lot like Shampoo," Miwako said.

"Like Shampoo-san used to," Akane said. "She's gotten a lot better over the years."

"Japanese dumb. Why bother more? People understand Lo Xian fine," Lotion said. It was hard to really argue with that logic, even if her pidgin Japanese was grating on the ear.

Miwako asked, "And the old ghoul doesn't mind you moving? What about the rest of your tribe?"

"You is treat elder with respect," Lotion snapped back. "She no mind. She is telling tribe Xian Pu still chase Ranma. That why I and others come, to help, yes?"

"They moved here a couple of years ago," Akane said. "But why is Yamata-san is here? Is there a problem with your immigration or something?"

"No know. Is not usual process?" Lotion asked. "Lo Xian just sign what told sign."

"There isn't really a problem. Immigrating to Japan is pretty easy, as long as you don't break any laws, learn Japanese, and have enough income to support yourself. I'm more here as a byproduct of talking with Mu Tsu-san and Xian Pu-san. They were describing their sources of income, and they mentioned their martial arts. Frankly, what they described sounded a bit unbelievable, so I wanted to come and see it for myself," Yamata said.

At Akane's subtle coaxing, the whole group slowly resumed its journey to the food tents.

"Foreign girl does fighting arts?" Lotion abruptly asked.

"Who, me?" Ran asked. "I'm a black belt in karate."

"Is not talking to weakling. Is talking to real fighter," Lotion said. She gave Miwako an appraising stare. Miwako tensed slightly in preparation for a sudden surprise attack, but did not otherwise react.

"I'll have you know I've beaten up lots of criminals. Some of them even had knives and clubs," Ran protested.

"Yes. Is too too easy," Lotion said. "Quiet, child, as adults talk. You, red girl, is fighter, yes?"

Ran was left with a mixture of pouting and anger on her face at the casual dismissal.

"Me? I guess so," Miwako said, more than a bit nervous. Akane may have developed a more easy relationship with Mousse and the other Chinese Amazons, but Miwako's experiences were far more negative. She was eager to avoid a fight, and nothing good could come from Lotion's questioning.

"Hey! How good are you anyway?" Conan asked, raising the question that Miwako had intentionally been trying to avoid.

"I know a bit," Miwako said. Akane shook her head at the same comment Miwako had used when she had first showed up at the Tendo Dojo, while Mousse tried to cover his snorted-laughter with a cough.

"We should have fight," Lotion said.

"Don't bother. Miwako-san would wipe the floor with you," Mousse said. He adjusted his glasses to sit higher on his nose.

"Not possible. Mu Tsu is underestimate fighting Chinese Amazon," Lotion said. She struck a posture of pride. It was an especially impressive maneuver, seeing how she was once again draped on Mousse's arm.

"Chinese Amazons?" Ran asked. Mouri and Conan gave her blank stares in response.

Mousse ignored them, and said, "No, I know exactly how good you are. You've challenged me enough times. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not find out. I know all about your laws and fighting," Miwako said. She still covertly watched Lotion as if she were a leashed dog who could break free and pounce at any time. She didn't want to fight, but she had also had a long history of Chinese Amazons not respecting her wishes.

"That's a shame. I still have yet to see one of these crazy fights I've heard so much about," Yamata said.

"Don't worry about that. There's still the tournament later," Akane said. She then added, "And don't worry about kisses of marriage and death and all that. Cologne-san promised us that any Amazons participating here were forbidden to do any of that village law stuff today."

"Take all fun out," Lotion said with a pout.

"Speaking of which, I need to go. I have my first match coming up, and Yamata-san said he wanted us to do something before then," Mousse said. He left the group, with Lotion and Yamata following. Lotion stayed attached to Mousse's arm the whole way.

Once they were gone, Miwako allowed herself to relax again.

"So what was that about Chinese Amazons?" Conan asked.

"And that kiss thing?" Ran asked.

"Mousse-san and Lotion-san are from a village of Amazons in China, in the Bayankala Mountain range. It's full of warrior women, and it's an ancient tradition of their tribe where if a foreigner beats them in a fight, they either need to marry them or kill them before they can return home. If one of them tries to kiss you, you should probably run away as fast as you can," Akane said.

Ran gave smile which threatened to turn into a laugh. She said, "No way. You're making that up."

"It's real, and they take their traditions very seriously," Miwako said with a frown in response. She was briefly lost in thought of the weeks in China facing ambush at every campsite, and the subsequent months in Nerima with Shampoo flinging herself at her at every opportunity. "I'd suggest you never fight a Chinese Amazon if you can at all help it. The consequences can be severe."

The delicious smell of frying okonomiyaki drifted through the air. It immediately brought the thought of Ukyou to Miwako's mind. The two things was indelibly linked together, to the point that she almost never ate it anymore. No matter the restaurant, the okonomiyaki was never as good as the ones her former fiancee had made. The reminder was enough to cause her to ask Akane, "You said Ucchan's around here, right? Is she still running Ucchan's?"

"She is," Akane said. "It took her forever to give up on Ranma, but I think she's finally found somebody else. She set up a tent here. I'm hoping we'll be able to catch her there."

Akane's destination was immediately confirmed when a sign proclaiming Ucchan's was revealed at the front of the tent they were approaching. That was all the prompting that Miwako needed. She stepped into the open tent flaps, fully expecting to see an older Ukyou.

Instead, a pretty young girl stood behind the portable griddle. The way she held the spatula in her hands somehow managed to make it appear cute in some inexplicable way. She was frying several okonomiyaki for the various customers scattered around the tent. While she was clearly not Ukyou, she did look familiar to Miwako for some reason.

"Do you still sell Ranchan specials?" Miwako asked as she sat down. Even if the chef wasn't Ukyou, it was still Ucchan's, so there was always a chance.

"Is that you, Miwako-sama?" the chef asked.

It was only upon hearing her voice that Miwako realized why the girl looked so familiar, and that she wasn't actually a girl.

"Konatsu-chan?" Miwako asked. The male kunoichi looked just as lovely as the day Miwako had accidentally freed him from his abusive stepmother and stepsisters.

"Yes, it's me, Miwako-sama," Konatsu said. He had somehow managed to avoid the signs of aging which had affected Miwako, Ranma, Akane, and everybody else. It was probably some secret kunoichi makeup technique or something.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me Nadeshiko. Everybody else seems to at first," Miwako said.

"Oh?" Konatsu asked. He tilted his head a bit and held a finger up to his mouth in contemplation, which incidentally made him appear that much cuter. "Now that you mention it, I guess there is some similarity between you two."

Mouri stepped forward and said, "And who is this pretty lady? You said your name is Konatsu-chan? Are you going to introduce us, Satou-san?"

Miwako had to suppress her laughter at Mouri's infatuation. It was common occurrence for men of all ages to lust after the perfect kunoichi. In fact, Konatsu was so good at his craft that many men still enjoyed watching him even after they discovered his gender.

"Otousan, you're still married. Behave yourself," Ran said. She made the declaration loud enough that that it carried to the farthest corners of the tent, let alone to the ears of Konatsu.

Miwako had to suppress another snicker, and took the opportunity to do what Mouri asked. She told Konatsu, "This is Kogoro Mouri, his daughter, Ran Mouri, and Conan Edogawa, a boy they are caring for." She then turned to Mouri and said, "And this is Konatsu, the best male kunoichi you'll ever meet."

"Male... kunoichi?" Mouri asked. The metaphorical hearts floating in his eyes vanished faster than if somebody had thrown a bucket of ice water over him.

"There's no need to be so blunt about it," Konatsu said. He shyly glanced down and nervously rubbed his hands together. Even after being exposed, he gave no outward appearance of his maleness.

"Sorry, sorry," Miwako said. "Hey, where's Ucchan?"

"Ukyou-sama is currently preparing for the tournament," Konatsu said. He half-turned to the side and poured some sauce on the okonomiyaki being prepared there before turning back to face Miwako.

"But not you?" Miwako asked. She took a seat.

"Me? Oh, no. I've put that life behind me. I'm happy just being an okonomiyaki chef now," Konatsu said.

Akane took a seat next to Miwako. She said, "We keep telling him he should keep practicing his ninjutsu. If he did, he'd easily be competitive with everybody else."

"I don't like being reminded of my mother or my sisters," Konatsu said. He picked up a finished okonomiyaki to his side, and flung it through the air, whereupon it neatly landed on the plate of a waiting patron.

"But you're still dressing like... well... like a girl," Miwako said. The frilly dress and apron he wore was just as flattering on him now as it had been the last time Miwako had seen Konatsu. If anything, his cuteness had increased over the years.

"Oh, that's because my fiancee likes it," Konatsu said. "She approves of my fashion sense."

"You're engaged now? Congratulations. I'm surprised Ucchan likes you wearing that, though. Don't tell me she's still dressing like a boy," Miwako said. There was an appropriate symmetry of Ukyou being a woman dressed as a boy paired with Konatsu being a man dressed as a girl.

Upon further reflection, though, even that didn't exactly make sense. Ukyou hadn't really dressed very much like a boy after she had given up her quest for revenge and instead tried to reassert her claim to Ranma's hand in marriage. Few boys would have worn such tight-fitting leggings which left no question as to Ukyou's gender.

Akane gave a quiet cough.

Konatsu said, "You misunderstand me. Ukyou-sama is just my employer. She is very kind and has taught me everything I know about okonomiyaki, but my fiancee is Kodachi-chan."

Miwako choked, and fell into a coughing spurt. She was sure she had misheard Konatsu, except that she had enough confidence in herself to know that she hadn't. She spluttered, "What? How?" before she was able to gather her wits about her. She decided she was being offensive. She could find out details later. "Uhh... congratulations?" Miwako said. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't quite keep the questioning tone out of her voice.

"Thank you," Konatsu said. He gave a small bow, and looked every bit the demure wife. "Okay, I have one Ranchan special. Would anybody else like anything?" He took the opportunity to fling another okonomiyaki across the tent to another waiting patron's plate, where it landed just as neatly as the previous one had.

"I'll have the usual," Akane said.

"Okay," Konatsu said. "How about you three?"

"What do you have for sale?" Ran asked, taking a seat next to Akane.

"Anything you want. I may only be a journeyman, but I am still a practitioner of Martial Arts Okonomiyaki," Konatsu said.

"Martial Arts Okonomiyaki? How does that work?" Ran asked. Her face was scrunched up in curiosity and confusion.

"It's a school of martial arts designed around the practice of making and serving okonomiyaki," Konatsu said. He started to pour some more oil on his griddle in preparation for the new orders.

"So you've been learning some of that too? I guess it matches quite well with your kunoichi skills," Miwako said. Martial Arts Okonomiyaki used numerous projectiles and explosives, and had several attacks based on subterfuge and misdirection. It complemented well with the skills of ninjitsu.

"It does, if I ever did need to use it that way," Konatsu said. He turned back to Ran, and said, "What that means for your lunch, though, is that I can make any type of okonomiyaki you want."

"Anything?" Conan asked. "I want a blowfish and whale okonomiyaki." The childish flare he spoke with stood in distinct contrast with the challenging glint in his eyes.

Konatsu raised a finger to his mouth as he looked up in thought. He said, "Hmm... that might be difficult."

Conan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Konatsu continued, "We left the less popular ingredients back at Ucchan's. If you can wait five minutes, I shall go and retrieve them immediately."

Mouri knocked Conan on the head, and said, "Don't be difficult, brat. Order something normal. I'll have a pork okonomiyaki."

"I'll have an egg one," Conan said with a pout. He had to climb a bit to get up on a chair, and his head only barely poked above the table.

"A vegetable one for me, please," Ran said.

"Okay, that's one Ranchan special, one seafood special, a vegetable, an egg, and a pork okonomiyaki. They'll be ready in just a minute," Konatsu said, going down the line. He splayed the different ingredients along the grill with a speed and precision which took everybody not accustomed to it by surprise. The sizzle of frying oil and sauce filled the air.

Lunch itself was delicious. It was the best okonomiyaki Miwako had had in years. It could have been even better than the ones Ukyou herself cooked from back in her teenage years. Miwako would need to find Ukyou and order another one for comparison. It was doubtless that her former fiancee had improved over the years as well.

Miwako spent lunch talking to Akane about what everybody else from her past had been doing over the years. It was punctuated with the occasional exclamation of disbelief from the others. The Panda and Nodoka Saotome had moved out of the Tendo Dojo and returned to their rebuilt familial home. Ranma had not joined them, and instead was still staying with the Tendos. Despite their departure, though, the Tendo household was more crowded than it had ever been before. Doctor Ono Tofu had married Kasumi Tendo and he, along with their two children, more than filled the gap left behind by the departure of the Saotomes. Additionally, the household had been invaded by Ryu Kumon, who had set up a space in the dojo storehouse for himself.

Ucchan's was still doing stable business, and was very much like how Miwako had remembered it as being. In contrast, the Cat Cafe had had substantially better success, having grown to become something of a franchise business. Mousse and Shampoo ran a second restaurant which was completely separate than the one Cologne still ran with Lotion and a few other immigrants.

Tatewaki Kuno had joined the business world and had mellowed out considerably, due in no small part to the influence of this Nadeshiko person. Akane and Ranma had come into contact with her when she had started taking martial arts classes, and she was friendly enough that they had ended up forming a friendship. While Nadeshiko was a bit of a gold digger, she had a saint-like patience and understanding.

There was a bit of a tussle at the end of lunch over the question of who would pay for it. Miwako thought it was only right for her to pay for the group, as she was sure she had the most income of them all. Akane wanted to treat the group in honor of Miwako's return. Mouri wanted to pay as well, as his honor refused to allow him to be treated to lunch by a woman. Konatsu solved the problem for them all by simply refusing to present a bill, instead trading a promise from Miwako that she would come and visit Ukyou later.

The warm glow of a full stomach still lingered within Miwako as the group left the tent. They were met by Ranma, who called out to them. He ran up, grabbed both Miwako and Akane's arms, and forcibly pulled them away.

"Hey!" both Miwako and Akane protested.

"Th.. th... there..." Ranma stammered. He was visibly shaken. Miwako wondered what could make him so nervous. He had faced down a phoenix emperor in battle with less visible emotion. The only thing she could think of was that he was about to confess his love to Akane, although she couldn't imagine why he would have brought her along for such an event. "There... There's been a murder."

The bottom dropped out of Miwako's gut. Her stomach cramped as painfully as if she had spent the past five minutes laughing non-stop, but with none of the delirious euphoria such an exercise would bring with it. It was always the same whenever she encountered the all-too-frequent murders as part of her job. Despite that, training took over before any more natural or crude reactions could impact her.

"Where's the victim?" Miwako asked. She was all serious business, in contrast to the squeamishness of Ranma and the pale-faced Akane.

"Over there. In the.. the gym. The equipment storage room," Ranma said, pointing back in the direction he had come from.

Miwako pulled out her cellular phone. With a cold professionalism, she called police dispatch.

"This is Assistant Inspector Miwako Satou of Division 1. I'm at Furinkan High School, and have just received a report from a credible source that there's been a homicide in the school gym, in the equipment storage room. Send backup."

Miwako waited for the operator to repeat back her report as confirmation that it had been properly received, and then she hung up. Backup was on its way and would arrive in a few minutes. In the meantime, as the only police officer in the area, and therefore the ranking officer in charge of the investigation, the responsibility of securing the scene fell to her. She would have preferred to wait for somebody like Megure to arrive and take charge, but the first few minutes after a crime were the most critical ones.

"Okay, show me where," Miwako said.

Ranma led the group at a light jog, with Miwako and Akane easily keeping pace. Conan had to run to not fall behind the group, and Ran and Mouri quickly chased after their charge as well.

"Who found the body?" Miwako asked as they moved.

"I did. I was looking for Mousse. His match is coming up soon, and I thought he might have pulled a Ryoga," Ranma said.

"Do you know who the victim was?"

"It's... it's..." Ranma's voice cracked.

"Pull yourself together. Freaking out's not going to do any good," Miwako said.

"It's the first corpse I've seen. Like you did any better with your first one," Ranma said.

It had been a long time, but Miwako could still remember how hard she had been hit by her first murder investigation. She had been forced to flee the room so her vomit didn't spoil the crime scene. However, back then she had been a rookie detective who could afford to be useless. She had not been an important witness, let alone technically a murder suspect.

"I'm sorry. Look, I know it's rough, but you're a man, right? So act like one. Now talk to me. Who was the victim?" Miwako asked, deliberately challenging Ranma's manhood. He might have been more secure in his masculinity since he had lost his Jusenkyo curse, but the attack was so blunt and obviously manipulative that it was sure to annoy him, and an annoyed Ranma was better than a scared one.

"Fine. It's Yamata-san," Ranma said with a scowl.

"The immigration officer?" Akane asked. She sounded shaken too, and she hadn't even seen the body. Miwako would need to keep her away from the corpse, both for crime scene integrity as well as to somehow save her from the grief and possible nightmares.

"He just left us 28 minutes ago, with Mousse-san and Lotion-san," Conan said. In a higher voice he asked, "Isn't that right, Ran-neesan?"

"What? Oh. That's right. I think," Ran said.

Conan's comment reminded Miwako, and she checked the time. She would need it for her report. It was 12:11.

"Has anybody seen Mousse-san or Lotion-san?" Miwako asked, to which several people indicated they had not. She would need to find them once backup had arrived. As the last people in the victim's company that she knew of, at the very least the both of them would be witnesses for the investigation.

They reached the storage room. Before Ranma and Akane could enter, though, Miwako forcefully jumped in front, turned around, and said, "Stop."

"What's wrong?" Akane asked.

"This is a crime scene now. None of you can enter. It will contaminate the scene. Nobody enters or leaves until some officers arrive and help me secure it," Miwako said. "Mouri-san, you used to be in the police, so you know how this works. Help me keep watch as well. Everybody else, just stop anybody trying to get in or escape."

As much as she was eager to go in herself and start investigating, procedure was to wait for backup before entering an insecure area. Miwako was confident the murderer had already escaped, or if she did encounter somebody inside the equipment storage room, then she would be able to handle it. However, the cemetery was full of confident police officers. Backup would arrive quickly enough. Homicides were always a high priority event, for obvious reasons.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Ranma asked impatiently after several seconds had passed.

"I am doing something. I'm waiting for backup," Miwako said. In the distance she heard some sirens. It was a welcome sound. It would only be a couple of minutes until some officers arrived. It would be longer before her coworkers in Division 1 showed up, but the arrival of some uniformed officers would at least signal the end to the waiting.

When Miwako's backup arrived, they were initially dismissive of the red-haired woman in civilian clothes. It was something Miwako had been forced to become accustomed to since joining the police force. However, once she proved she outranked them by presenting her badge, they quickly fell into line. She set one officer to watch the door, two more to go search for Mousse and Lotion, another three to search for any other potential witnesses, and the remainder to accompany her into the storage room.

Miwako's abundance of caution proved as unnecessary as she had expected. Not a living thing was in the room. It was both a relief and a disappointment. Once she was sure there would be no quick discovery of the murderer at the scene of the crime, she quickly sent the uniformed officers back out before they trampled all the evidence. She was then finally able to began her investigations in earnest.

The most prominent thing in the room was the body of Jiro Yamata. He was lying on his stomach, his eyes fixed open in a permanent stare. The cause of death was obvious. Across his back was a long slash wound, as well as a more severe stab wound caused by a knife or sword. Blood had poured out from both injuries to pool around the body. Between him and the door were the pieces of his briefcase, cleaved into two completely separate halves. Ironically, the latches on both halves still kept the bisected lid sealed shut.

"What a cowardly attacker," Mouri said, causing Miwako to snap her head over to face the intruding man.

The police officer at the door should have stopped Mouri. The private detective and former police officer must have managed to persuade the guard to let him in. Regardless, Miwako wasn't too opposed to his presence. She would be the first person to admit she wasn't great at investigations. Any assistance would be welcome, and it was hard to picture anybody more qualified than Sleeping Mouri.

"How do you figure that?" Miwako asked. Anything she could learn about the murderer, even something as subjective as the culprit being a coward, would help.

"Yamata-san was stabbed in the back. Only a coward would do that," Mouri said.

Miwako only needed to let that idea sit for a second before the obvious flaw in his reasoning showed up. She said, "He's facing the door, and there's some blood spots there and there. It looks like Yamata-san was trying to run away. Of course he would have been attacked from behind if he was running away."

"Then Yamata-san was a coward. He should have defended himself," Mouri said. There were various clubs, sticks, and wooden swords scattered around the room.

That idea was immediately dismissible. Furinkan High School was far more inured against casual violence than the rest of Japan, but even as a teenager, the number of students who would fight an armed attacker there was dwarfed by the number of people who would run away. For example, she couldn't imagine somebody like Hiroshi or Daisuke fighting back against an opponent with a real sword.

Miwako ignored Mouri and instead tried to picture how the scene could have played out. She could trace the direction Yamata had run based on how his body had fallen and by the patterns of blood spatter. If she assumed that Yamata had been running as fast as he could, that would place him as having started near the back of the room. Miwako moved there to try to get another look at the crime scene from a different perspective.

"Wow. I want to be an immigration officer when I grow up. They have it easy. I'll never have to do homework again," the high voice of Conan squeaked out from near the room's entrance. His presence didn't even surprise her. Given the frequency of Conan's contact with crime, and the presence of Mouri as well, it was only to be expected the boy had found his way into the crime scene.

"What do you mean?" Miwako asked. Even if she was mistaken and he wasn't a master detective, she couldn't deny the number of clues he had stumbled across in the Bank Manager's Wife's murder case. If it had been mere luck, it was possible it could happen again.

"This is Yamata-san's briefcase, right? It's all empty. I guess he just likes to have a big lunch," Conan said, once again in a voice which somehow sounded too high to be natural.

"Don't bother Satou-keibu," Ran said to Conan. She picked the boy up and held him in her arms.

"It's alright," Miwako muttered as she instead concentrated on the briefcase Conan had pointed out. It had been cut into two, straight through the center. This exposed the insides of both halves, which as Conan had noted only contained empty air. It was possible that Yamata had tried to use it to block a strike, and the attacker had cleaved straight through it. The positioning was a bit off, though, seeing how the briefcase was quite a bit closer to the door than the body was. The strange layout was also possible if he had been carrying the two halves with him when he had tried to run, although in that case she would have expected the two halves to have landed closer together. Neither of those theories explained why the suitcase was empty, though.

Miwako's musing was interrupted when she saw Mouri creeping around on his hands and knees. It was so obvious that she had to ask, "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the string. These murders always have some string somewhere," Mouri said.

Miwako stood in disbelief at that assertion. After a few seconds she decided to let the man continue his search. His detailed check could possibly find some other evidence, and there was always the chance that a string was actually there. She didn't understand how Sleeping Mouri did his work, but she couldn't argue with his results.

For her part, Miwako continued on her own to search for a few more minutes without finding any other evidence. She couldn't help but feel that if Megure or Shiritori were present, they would have seen something she was overlooking. However, they weren't. There would need to be a more detailed re-investigation once the more experienced detectives arrived. In the meantime, she had found all the physical evidence she could for now, and it was time to move on to the various witness testimonials. She said, "Come on, everybody out. I need to question the witnesses."

She cleared the room and brought everybody back outside. On the way out, she ordered the guard at the entrance, "No non-police are allowed in there. Nobody. I mean it this time, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," the police officer said, concurrently snapping a salute. Miwako left him behind to his duty. She did summon another uniformed officer to join the first one to ensure her orders were obeyed this time, though. She then left to the collect her first witness's statement.

Ranma was performing a kata when Miwako approached. Akane was nowhere in sight, which was good for the questioning. Ranma did have a police guard, but that was a mere formality. There was no chance the guard could have stopped him if he decided to escape.

Miwako didn't bother asking Ranma to stop. Katas were second nature, and it wouldn't distract either of them in the least.

"So how did you find the body?" Miwako said, pulling out a notepad as she asked.

"I told you. I was looking for Mousse. His match was up next, and he hadn't checked in. He had asked me for a good place to meet Yamata-san for some immigration stuff, and I told him there were a bunch of rooms in the gym, so I went looking for him there and found... you know. I went to get you and Akane-chan right after."

Miwako jotted some quick notes down, and then asked, "Did you see or hear anything suspicious?" It was a long shot, but there was always the chance that Ranma had seen the murderer.

"Nothing."

"What about in the room? Did you touch or move anything?"

"No. I was going to check on Yamata-san, but then I saw that big pool of blood."

"What about a sword? Did you see one anywhere?" Conan asked. At the intrusion, Miwako turned to look at the boy, but then nodded at Ranma to go ahead and answer his question.

"Not really, but it's not like swords are that rare around here," Ranma said.

"Do you have an alibi from 11:43 to when you found me and Akane-chan?" Miwako asked.

This caused Ranma to stop his kata and turn to face Miwako. "You can't seriously think I did it." It was a declaration, not a question.

Miwako put her pen down, and looked Ranma in the eye. She said, "Of course not, but I have to be certain. You think I like this any more than you do?"

"You do know what you're asking, right?" Ranma asked. The very implication of Ranma potentially murdering somebody directly implied that Miwako also had it within her to be a murderer. As distasteful and damning as it was, though, she did need to pursue every line of questioning.

"Yeah, I know. So, you going to answer?" Miwako asked, her frown as deep as Ranma's scowl.

"Fine," Ranma snapped out, almost bitting out each word. "No, I don't have an alibi. I was refereeing until around noon, but then I went looking for Mousse on my own and found Yamata-san."

Miwako quickly jotted down a couple more notes, and then put her pen away. "Okay, wait here. I'll be back in a minute." She then jogged over to the two police officers who were approaching with Mousse and Lotion.

As they approached, Lotion didn't even bother to hide her annoyance at Miwako. Miwako kept close watch of Lotion in case it turned into open hostility. To a lesser degree, she kept watch of Mousse as well. She told the officer to lead Lotion out of earshot, and then told Mousse, "Yamata-san's been killed."

Mousse gasped. He asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I saw the body myself," Miwako said. She flipped a page in her notebook, and wrote a title noting that she had changed interview subjects. "You two were the last two people to see him alive. What were you meeting him for?"

"Yamata-san said he had some papers for us to sign. It was the renewal of our residential visas. We were going to do it in his office, but he said he wanted to see some of the martial arts tournaments I kept telling him about, so we decided to meet here instead," Mousse said.

"If he was applying for a residential visa, then he should have his proof of income with him somewhere," Conan said, in a much lower pitch and somber tone than typical. His sotto voice was barely audible. Nevertheless, Miwako and everybody else nearby turned to look at him.

Conan startled at the sudden attention, and then added in a brighter and more playful voice vaguely reminiscent of Yoiko Hibiki, "I heard something like that on TV."

Mouri gave Conan a sharp knock on the head and said, "Again with the TV?"

"Yes. Yamata-san told us to bring some copies of our restaurant income and tournament winnings. Lo Xian has them," Mousse said.

"So you went to sign those papers. Do you remember what time it was?" Miwako asked.

"Not exactly. Maybe around noon? I remember being worried about missing my upcoming match, so I hurried through it all. Yamata-san said they were the same things we signed a while ago, and it was all just a formality," Mousse said. "After than I ran off to get to my match."

"Noon," Miwako mused. The time was annoyingly inconvenient. It meant the partial alibi of Ranma's was useless, and she had no conclusive proof about who could or could not have committed the murder. "Okay, wait here. I need to talk to the others. I'll be back."

Miwako finished writing her notes, flipped another page, and then walked over to Lotion.

"Foreign girl too too annoying. Why tell male hold Lo Xian?" Lotion asked. She didn't even bother to hide her hostility.

Miwako pretended not to notice the Lotion's glares as she put pen to notebook. She said, "Yamata-san is dead. I need to ask you, when was the last time you saw him."

"Is near noon. Was with Mu Tsu. He sign paper and go match. I signs too and leave after. Yamata-san stay behind and file paperswork," Lotion said.

Miwako nodded to herself as she wrote down the testimony. It corroborated what Mousse had said. She then asked, "Mousse said you had some papers with your proof of income. Where are they?"

"Yes. Proof here. Business too too good," Lotion said. She pulled a folder out from seemingly nowhere.

Miwako took the folder and opened it up, for all the good it did. She was no accountant, and the fragments of receipts and spreadsheets meant little to her. At the bottom of the first page was the number 48,7242 written in black with a circle drawn around it. She assumed that was good.

"Wow, where'd you get those papers from? I didn't see them anywhere. How did you do that?" Conan asked while Miwako skimmed the documents.

Lotion's annoyance evaporated in the face of the Conan's overt admiration. She said, "Is ancient Chinese Amazon secret. Mu Tsu is being much better than Lo Xian."

Miwako handed the folder to a police officer to label and store as evidence. She then asked Lotion, "Where did you go after meeting Yamata-san? Do you have any witnesses?"

"Lotion go to spectator stand. Too too eager to watch beloved kick tail," Lotion said.

"Did you see anything on the way out?" Miwako asked. Yamata was unlikely to have stayed in the equipment storage room for long after his business there had been concluded. Chances were that the culprit had entered immediately after Lotion had left. She might have caught a hint of something Miwako could follow-up on.

"No see thing," Lotion said.

"And then Saotome-san showed up a few minutes later?" Ran asked.

"It was Saotome-san!" Mouri abruptly announced. He looked pleased at his deduction.

Miwako jolted at this statement and whipped over to look at the man. Ranma did as well, despite the distance between them. He shouted back in a voice even louder than Mouri's, "I didn't do it!" and ran to join the larger group. Akane came running too, as did Mousse.

"Do you have any proof of that?" Miwako asked. Her voice was a bit shaky, but it paled in comparison to the turmoil roiling within her. It was no secret that Miwako had changed over the years, and there was every reason to think that Ranma had as well. Was it possible that Ranma had change enough such that he was now willing to perform a homicide on a helpless civilian? Or maybe, was it possible that Miwako herself could? Sleeping Mouri had a reputation of never being wrong. What had he noticed that she had missed?

"He had the most opportunity," Mouri said. "He just kills Yamata-san before he goes and finds anybody. It's always the person who found the body who did it." Mouri then gave a full-throated laugh, his chest standing out proudly.

"None of that's proof! You need to have real evidence before you start making accusations!" Miwako shouted. Her anger only being surpassed by her relief at the false alarm. Megure had mentioned more than once how incompetent Mouri had been as a police detective. It always stood at odds with the reputation Sleeping Mouri had recently developed, and Miwako had always assumed that her boss had been exaggerating. Now that Miwako had seen Mouri in action, albeit only for a brief time, she was no longer so sure.

"Anybody could have come in during the time between Mousse-san and Lotion-san leaving and me showing up," Ranma said. The relief was audible in his voice. It was the only thing which surpassed the anger at Mouri's baseless accusation.

"What about that briefcase? I don't think just anybody could have cut it in half, even with a sword," Ran said.

"That only narrows it down to a martial artist, and there's lots of us around here," Ranma said. Ran looked skeptical, but Miwako nodded in agreement, as did Akane, Mousse, and Lotion.

"Adults are weird. They carry around empty boxes. Why do they do that, Ran-neechan?" Conan asked.

"Shh... don't bother everybody, Conan-kun," Ran said.

It was the second time Conan had noted the empty briefcase. Assuming his mastery was in the field of detective work, there had to be a reason he kept trying to draw attention to it. Miwako mused upon it, and muttered to herself, "So his briefcase was empty... that meant there was nothing in it... that meant whatever was in it is gone... and what did he have in it? It couldn't have been the income papers... Lotion and Mousse still had them... What else would there be? The immigration papers? The immigration papers were stolen!" If it had been an incidental destruction along with the briefcase, there should have been large sheets of torn paper left inside the container or scattered around the room. However, the only paper in the room were small fragments, nowhere near enough to account for any immigration forms. "The culprit had to have been after them. It had to be somebody who knew about them."

"Okay. Even if that's true, how does that help? Everybody here knew about them," Ranma said.

"Hurk," Mouri quietly said, before sitting down heavily, leaning against a nearby tree. He once again proudly declared, "That may be true, but not to worry. I know who committed the murder."

"What's that? You got another accusation without proof?" Miwako asked. She then noticed that his eyes were closed, and he looked practically asleep. This was presumably the source of his reputation as Sleeping Mouri. Something about him struck her as odd, though, and she moved closer to get a better view.

"Nothing like that. That was just a trick to try to get the murderer to make a mistake. I figured it out for real now. It's pretty simple when you think about it," Mouri said.

The closer view Miwako got revealed what felt so strange. Mouri's lips weren't moving as he talked. It was subtle, but nothing compared to observing the subtle tensions of muscles signaling an incoming punch. Once she saw it, it was impossible to miss.

Mouri kept talking with his odd ventriloquism, "Means, motive, and opportunity. A crime needs all three of those, and that narrows it down to a single culprit. The cut briefcase shows it had to be somebody exceptionally strong and skilled, but Ranma-san, Mousse-san, and Lotion-san all had that ability. They all had the opportunity to confront Yamata-san alone, as well. The key point is the motive. Only the person who wanted to stop the immigration would have had a reason to steal those papers."

"But that makes no sense. Who would want to kill somebody to steal them? It's not like the papers matter at all. They could just print some new ones. It's not that hard," Akane said.

"Exactly. That confused me for a while, too, and that was the key point," Mouri said.

Miwako took the opportunity to lean down and take a closer look at Mouri. He was breathing far too slowly considering what he was doing. She poked him on the cheek twice.

"Oww... what are you doing? Stop interrupting me," Mouri said. However, he gave no other reaction to her pokes. "Like I was saying, the murder and theft only makes sense if the killer thought that the documents were important. Presumably the culprit wanted to stop the immigration process."

Miwako looked at Ranma with renewed suspicion. The Amazons had been a pain more times than she could count throughout her teenage years. Supposedly the relationship between Ranma and them had improved, but it was possible Ranma had finally gotten tired of the Amazons and wanted them gone.

Ranma saw the glance and said, "Don't look at me that way. I want them to stay. Shampoo and Mousse are good practice partners, and I still haven't learned all of Old-Ghoul-sensei's secrets yet."

"It's true," Akane said. "They've gotten a lot better in the past few years."

"And that rules us out, too," Mousse said. "If we wanted to go back to China, we just would. Why would we kill him to stop the immigration process when we're the ones applying for the immigration in the first place?"

On the surface everything Miwako heard sounded plausible. She wondered if there might be another factor in play. Based on the criteria Mouri had laid out, it sounded like the murderer was somebody else entirely. None of the three major suspects had any motive at all. In that case, then, who could it be? Who had Mouri spotted that Miwako had missed?

Mouri resolved this question by saying, "You are correct, Mousse-san. That would eliminate you and Lotion-san as suspects, if it were true. But it's not, is it Lotion-san!" His forceful declaration was contrasted by his near complete lack of motion. It was the most anti-climactic accusation that Miwako had ever been a part of.

Everybody turned to look at Lotion.

"What mean? Lo Xian want move, too. Fill out too too many paper," Lotion said.

"I'm sure you did, but you don't actually want to move, do you? You've been here for years, but your Japanese is terrible. Speaking and reading Japanese is one of the few hard requirements for immigration, and you aren't even trying to improve. It's also clear you don't even know anything about the immigration process. I'll bet if we searched you, we'd find your sword and those papers," Mouri said.

"Is can search fine. Even let dumb male searching," Lotion said, pointing at the police officer who had been escorting her around.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I helped him, just to make sure you weren't hiding anything?" Mousse asked as much as said.

Lotion's face instantly transformed from one of moderate indulgence to fury. She drew a sword from seemingly nowhere and shouted, "Obstacles is for killing!" She then ran forward to cut down the sitting Mouri.

Despite this, Mouri still failed to move or react in any substantial way.

Ranma was the first to react, but Miwako's action was the decisive one. Her martial arts may have plateaued over the years, but she had supreme confidence in her marksmanship now. As Ranma moved to intercept, Miwako drew her pistol, aimed with a fluid motion she had practiced thousands of times, confirmed both her target as well as the clear space behind Lotion in the blink of an eye, and pulled the trigger.

The loud report of the gun sounded like hammer smashing through a plywood board, resounding throughout the whole field. Lotion stumbled. A second and a third explosion followed immediately thereafter as Miwako clicked the trigger over and over, until the approaching body of Ranma forced her to hold her fire.

It was too late for Ranma to change his plan of action. He tackled the already falling Lotion backwards, knocking her sword away from her now loosened grip. She landed on her back against the grass, with Ranma ending up on top of her.

"You shot her!" Ranma shouted. It was a distant cry, hard to hear through the ringing left behind in Miwako's unprotected ears as a result of the loud gunfire.

"Yes, I did! Now get out of the way so I can make sure I didn't kill her!" Miwako shouted back. She ran forward, ripping off her shirt as she moved. "Call an ambulance!" she ordered the nearest police officer. "Get Tofu-sensei, and any other paramedics! Now!" she shouted at Akane.

Miwako tore a strip off her shirt as she ran, transforming the ruined cloth into a makeshift bandage. She reached Ranma, roughly pushed him out of the way, and knelt down next to the injured Lotion.

There were three large and growing splotches of red on the side of Lotion's torso. Miwako ripped Lotion's shirt away to expose the wounds. She took the makeshift bandage she had made and pushed it up against the side of one of the bloody holes.

"Here! Hold this here!" Miwako shouted, grabbing Ranma's hand and pressed it against the bullet wound. "Firm, gentle pressure! Don't move her!" The ringing in her ears was starting to subside, but she still had no idea about how loud she should be talking.

"I do know first aid, you know," Ranma said. His voice was still quiet in the distance, but it was getting better.

"Right. Right. I know. Sorry," Miwako said. Concurrently, she took the remains of her shirt and tore a second and third bandage. She placed both of those against the remaining two wounds. There wasn't too much more she could do. She could only wait for the paramedics to arrive. They were likely on the way anyway due to the initial report of a homicide, and if not, the police officer's request for an immediate ambulance as a result of a shooting would summon one quickly enough.

"You didn't need to shoot her. I could have stopped her," Ranma said, sending an accusatory look directly at Miwako. The ringing in her ears had mostly vanished, to her relief.

"Maybe, but I couldn't afford to take that chance. Mouri-san wasn't moving, and I couldn't be sure you'd get there in time," Miwako said. She took the opportunity to look around. One of the police officers was shouting into his radio, and the fleeing back of Akane could be seen at the other end of the field.

"Yeah, you could," Ranma said. Lotion twitched and weakly raised her right arm. Ranma almost negligently reached over with his left hand to pin it down. He also used one of his feet to immobilize Lotion's left hand. "I'm the best, remember?"

"And I'm sure that'd look real good at the inquest. 'I didn't do anything because I left it in the hands of a civilian, but don't worry, it was Ranma Saotome. What do you mean you've never heard of him before? He's the best martial artist of this generation,'" Miwako said with a roll of her eyes. "Believe me, I'd rather I had. The last thing I need is another Amazon with a blood feud against me."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Amazons take a dim view of violence against helpless males, and you know their version of justice," Ranma said.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who just shot one of them," Miwako said.

"Really, don't worry about it. I'll talk to Old-Ghoul-sensei. She always did like Yamata-san. I'm sure Mousse will, too. It'd probably be nicer to let Lotion-san die here," Ranma said. It was only idle chatter. Neither he nor Miwako gave any serious consideration to letting Lotion bleed out.

"'Old-Ghoul-sensei?'" Miwako asked, emphasizing the "sensei" honorific. After the burst of activity a few seconds ago, the waiting around for help to arrive felt anti-climactic.

"I know you don't really believe it, but things really have changed a lot in the past few years. The Old Ghoul's been teaching me some of the non-secret techniques from her village, and helping me develop a few new ones myself. It seems only fair to call her 'sensei,'" Ranma said.

"But that doesn't change the fact that she's an old ghoul," Miwako said, finishing Ranma's thought for him.

"Exactly," Ranma said. He then leaned into Miwako, close enough that his breath tickled her ear, and whispered, "So what's the deal with that kid?"

"What do you mean?" Miwako whispered back. She didn't know why they were whispering, but if Ranma thought there was a reason, she would follow his lead.

"He was the one who said that whole explanation about Lotion-san and everything," Ranma said.

Miwako looked at him in curiosity. She asked, "It was Conan-kun? I figured it wasn't Mouri-san, but couldn't tell who it was."

"Yeah, it was the kid. He was hiding behind that tree. I can't tell for sure, but I think he was hiding from you. He moved a bit when you walked over to the old guy," Ranma said. "What'd you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything... I think..." Miwako said. She couldn't even remember having met Conan prior to the Stadium Bomber case.

"Are you sure? That kid's not ordinary, and people don't turn out like that without something happening to them," Ranma said.

"I know. I just... don't know," Miwako said.

They fell into another silence. Miwako could feel the adrenalin in her system slowly wearing off. It exposed the small but growing ache in her arms caused by needing to hold the makeshift bandages against Lotion's side with firm and consistent pressure. Blood was still oozing out through the scraps of torn cloth, though, and even a second of reprieve to stretch out her cramps could prove to be fatal for Lotion.

Ranma licked his lips. He then said, "So... you have a gun now." Miwako had expected more shock or more accusation in the statement, not a simple and surprisingly muted declaration of fact. He was dancing around something, trying to approach a concept without actually wanting to talk about it.

"It's part of the job. I face armed people all the time; some of them are even murderers," Miwako said, willing to let Ranma take his time to raise whatever subject he really wanted to talk about.

"Does it happen often?" Ranma asked.

"Sometimes more and sometimes less. Usually the cases I work with don't end in a firefight, though," Miwako said. She had a momentary flashback of a shootout in a darkened warehouse against some particularly desperate and dumb smugglers, and another of a prolonged siege against some accused murderer barricaded in his home.

"I meant the body," Ranma said. His trepidation became clear. This had been his first encounter with a homicide victim, and very possibly his first encounter with a dead human body. He was almost certainly thinking about Miwako's words from when they had met earlier in the day.

"Oh. That?" Miwako asked. "Every day."

"Oh."

A contemplative silence fell between Miwako and Ranma.

Miwako had had no idea what she had been getting into when she had first joined Division 1. She didn't regret it in the least, especially in comparison to her previous job in the Traffic Bureau, but the constant encounter with murder victims was definitely trying at times.

Ranma broke the silence by saying, "Maybe I should marry Akane-chan. I'm not sure what to do about Ryu and all the others, though."

"You could always renounce the Saotome name. That should fix most of the problems," Miwako said.

"I couldn't do that," Ranma said.

"Why not? I did," Miwako said.

"But we're not the same person," Ranma said.

"No. I guess we aren't," Miwako said. The time since their split, and the separate lives they had both experienced as a result, had caused Miwako and Ranma to become different people. They were still similar, but the recent events had only highlighted the very real differences between them: the constant stream of challengers, the constant encounters with death, the life of a martial artist, the life of a detective.

"At least tell her you love her," Miwako said. "You can do that at least."

Ranma went silent for a long time, deep in thought. Then, as hesitantly as anything Miwako had ever heard him say, he said, "That I can do."

A quiet groan caught Miwako's attention. She looked over to the source, and saw Mouri straightening his head and blinking rapidly. He asked, "What happened?" He then looked at the bloody spectacle in front of him, blinked again, shouted, and tried to jump up and backward. The tree blocked his path and knocked him forward onto his face. Not withstanding of that, Mouri pushed himself up to his feet and quickly backed away.

"And what's the deal with him?" Ranma asked.

"If I knew, I'd tell you," Miwako said.

After about two minutes Akane returned, Tofu right behind her. He took a quick look at Lotion's body, and pulled out some larger bandages from a medical kit he carried. One by one he removed the bloody rags that Miwako and Ranma were using to staunch the flow of blood and replaced them with more secure ones.

Once the three replacement bandages were in place, Miwako was able to climb to her feet. Her cramping arms throbbed, but immediately started to feel better. She reflexively rolled her shoulders and rubbed her aching triceps. Flexing her fingers helped return some circulation to them as well, even as it filled them with a sensation of gooey stickiness. Clotting blood smothered both of her hands and coated them with a caking red gum. She flicked her wrists a few times to fling away the more egregious clumps of blood, and then wiped her hands against her skirt. Her clothes had already been ruined to the point of needing to be replaced, so a few more stains wouldn't cause any more harm.

In the distance, she could see Megure and the other members of Division 1 running towards her. She gave them a wave to them to acknowledge she saw them.

"Satou-ku... uhh... are you okay?" Megure asked as he drew near. He, along with the other members of Division 1, stumbled to a hesitant walk, and then stopped despite still being a fair distance away from Miwako.

"Everything's fine. I think Tofu-sensei has Lotion-san stabilized for now," Miwako said, gesturing to the woman laying on the ground, "but she's going to need some medical attention soon. We already called for an ambulance."

"Oh, right. But I was more thinking of... uhh..." Megure said, but halted. He instead pointed at Miwako's torso.

Miwako looked down, fearful of what she would see. She hadn't remembered being injured, but everybody had heard stories of somebody who had been stabbed or shot and not noticed it due to the shock of the wound. She didn't see anything, though. There were several splatters of blood across her bra and skin, but nothing which should cause any worry to any of her teammates.

"This? It's all Lotion-san's blood," Miwako said. She gave herself a quick pat down just to make sure. When she finished, she looked up again and said, "Yep. I'm fine."

All of the members of Division 1 looked around evasively, but nobody said anything. There was something she was missing, and Miwako had no idea what it was.

"Miwako, you idiot," Akane said, although she had no venom in her words. She tossed Miwako a ball of something. "I guess some things never change."

Miwako caught the projectile and unfolded it. It was a shirt. She stared at it in confusion for a second, before she realized. She had forgotten about that. She said, "Oh... right."

She slid the shirt over her head. She had to untangle the edges to successfully unroll it over her body. It fit her as poorly as Akane's shirts had back in high school, although she had since learned that such a comment should not be verbalized.

The members of Division 1 gave a visible sigh. Megure then called Miwako over, away from all the civilians, and asked, "What's your report?"

Miwako began her explanation of what had happened, and what "Sleeping Mouri" had deduced.

The ambulance they had called arrived just after she had finished describing how Lotion had attacked and forced Miwako to shoot her. The paramedics efficiently moved Lotion into the vehicle. Tofu went along with them, as did Chiba, a uniformed officer, and Mousse. Miwako stayed behind to finish her briefing.

Once the ambulance had left, Miwako continued the rest of her explanation, and gave a brief tour of the crime scene.

At that point, Megure complemented Miwako for her handling of the dangerous Amazon, and suggested she take a break. The other members of Division 1 would complete the evidence collecting and witness gathering. She could enjoy the rest of her day off however she wanted to.

* * *

Last Updated: May 15, 2018


	5. Chapter 5: Understanding

Chapter 5: Understanding

The visit to the martial arts tournament had been a tremendous success. Conan's only real dissatisfaction was that he had not had a chance to see the special tournament. Throughout the entire event, he had been forced to stay with Ran and Mouri. Even when Ran had been competing, Mouri had made sure that Conan couldn't wander off. However, the secretive second tournament apparently had nothing to do with Satou, and thus only warranted a minor footnote of disappointment in comparison to Conan's delight at the plethora of leads he had discovered during his first foray into Nerima.

There was the handbill describing the Tendo Dojo, and its association with the obscure Anything Goes school of martial arts. There was the business card Nabiki Tendo had practically forced into his and everybody else's hands, which made it possibly the most insistent clue Conan had ever received. There was the memorable male kunoichi who worked at the forgettably-named okonomiyaki restaurant, and his obvious familiarity with Satou's past. There were the numerous Chinese immigrants with the strange names, and their apparently less sanguine history with Satou.

It was all Conan could do to sit still throughout the tournament and during the trip back to Beika City.

Once he had returned home, Conan immediately put a plan into action. Leads were only leads, and they would need to be pursued in order to turn them into something useful. That meant Conan would need to return to Nerima, but in a manner which would give him the freedom to move around and investigate as he desired. That, in turn, meant he would need an escort. If Conan tried to go on his own, Ran would worry and subsequently insist on coming with him, never mind that there was practically no risk in walking around Tokyo.

The obvious candidate was Agasa. He had helped Conan enough times in the past that such arrangements were becoming routine, and he knew the truth about Conan's condition so there would be no need to invent any creative deceptions once in Nerima.

It was easy enough to arrange for the logistics. As always, Agasa was more than willing to help. He was to meet Conan at Teitan Elementary School after class. From there they would immediately proceed to Nerima. There was no telling if Conan would be able to arrange another trip in the future, and he was eager to maximize the time available to him to investigate the special district.

After that, the only thing left to do was wait. In some ways, that was the hardest part of Conan's plan. Classes on the day of the planned trip were as frustratingly slow and nerve-wracking as waiting in line for a soccer stadium to open. Every one of Kobayashi's classes felt thrice as long as normal, and Conan had to restrain himself from bouncing in his chair. Now that he finally had a clear path forward, he was more than eager to get started.

And that was when he made his mistake.

Classes ended, and Conan bounded out of his chair in a rush to meet Agasa. Before he could get out the door, though, Genta was right beside him and hurrying just as fast. He asked, "Did you hear? They're doing a big Yaiba show in the park today!"

"Let's go. We do not want to be late," Mitsuhiko added, just behind them both.

"All the good seats will be taken," Ayumi added, completing the trio of arguably-normal Detective Boys.

"Ehh..." Conan hesitated. His near run slowed to a much more confused walk. The situation with Satou had not changed in any substantial way since the start of his investigations, and Conan was still disinclined to involve them with the unknown and potentially dangerous policewoman. However, he had not planned at all on how to keep the Detective Boys away from the search.

"What's wrong, Conan-kun?" Ayumi asked.

"It's... that is..." Conan said, trying to think quickly on his feet. And then it was too late.

"Isn't that Agasa-hakesei? For what reason is he here?" Mitsuhiko asked.

Agasa was very obvious from where he was loitering near the entrance of the school. He caught sight of the group of children at the same time, and called out, "Ah, Conan-kun. Are they coming along too?" It eliminated any of Conan's hopes of subterfuge.

Conan smacked himself on the face in frustration. It was pretty much a worst case situation. Even a normal child would have figured out that something was amiss from Agasa's statement, let alone the children he had been teaching the ways of detective investigation. It was a simple equation. Agasa picking up Conan after school for an unannounced reason, plus Agasa's asking if the others would be coming as well, added up to a mystery. It was only a matter of time until each of the Detective Boys figured it out. The only question was which one of them would complete the addition first.

"You have a case!" Genta shouted. He was the fastest one this time.

"Shhh..." Conan shushed, trying to minimize the commotion and attention they were generating. It was pointless to try to deny it. "It's not a case, but I am investigating something."

Ayumi walked next to him, and asked, "What are you investigating?"

"Satou-keibu," Conan said.

"Satou-keibu?" Mitsuhiko exclaimed.

"Shhh..." Conan said again, waiving his hands for emphasis.

"She's that police detective who saved Mitsuhiko-kun from that kidnapper, right? Why are you investigating her?" Ayumi asked. Her upset voice matched the hint of a pout on her face. "Is she the type of person you like?"

"It's not that," Conan said, causing Ayumi to release the breath she had been holding as a sigh. "There's a mystery around her, and a detective is supposed to solve mysteries."

So much about Satou didn't add up. The frequent number of times that those who knew her referenced her dead parents, and Satou's strange emphasis of words when reminding them of their mistake. The practical non-existence of any record of said parents and their newsworthy tragic end. The strange way she spoke. The obscure form of martial arts she knew which was only practiced by two families, neither of which were the Satou family.

There was a common theme behind all of it. Conan could feel it. He just needed a bit more information in order to fit all the pieces together. Hopefully his trip to Nerima would provide that information.

"That settles it. We're going too," Genta said.

"But what about your Yaiba play? You should go to that," Conan said. It was one last desperate hope that the children's favorite show could distract them.

"No. We are the Detective Boys. Solving a mystery is much more important," Mitsuhiko said. The children's loyalty and work ethic was admirable. It just annoyed Conan that they both worked against him this time.

"You'll need our help," Ayumi said, even as Conan was thinking the exact opposite.

"You can make it up to us later," Genta said.

Conan was defeated, but he tried to salvage the situation as best he could. He said, "Okay. You can all come, but you need to listen to me. We're going to the Tendo Dojo, in Nerima, and we're going there because we're doing a project Kobayashi-sensei assigned us to learn more about joining the police."

"But Kobayashi-sensei didn't assign us a project," Ayumi said. She scratched her head in confusion.

"I know, but that's not what we're going to tell them. I think they know her there, and we need an excuse to get them to talk," Conan said.

"I understand," Mitsuhiko said. "We shall tell them this lie and try to get them to tell us more about Satou-keibu."

"That's right," Conan said. He hoped they really did understand. Every child in the world was well versed with the practice of lying, but most of them weren't any good at it. There was also a big difference between an off-the-cuff, "I didn't eat any candy on the way home," and a comprehensive story to try to elicit information from a stranger.

"Ai-san. Are you coming, too?" Ayumi asked as Haibara was passing by.

"We're going to Nerima to investigate Satou-keibu," Genta added. His loud voice did not inspire any confidence in Conan.

Haibara rolled of her eyes, but joined in, completing the full assembly of Detective Boys.

Agasa's Volkswagen Beetle was a tight fit, but they had all managed to cram into its limited space on more than one occasion in the past. One major advantage of being children was that they took up far less room than they would after five more years of growth. That was particularly fortunate for Conan, as Haibara had naturally taken the front seat, leaving him to jostle for position with the other three in the back.

Finding the Tendo Dojo was easy. The handbill Conan had been given provided not only its address but also listed several convenient ways to reach it. Even so, after Agasa had parked his car in front of the fairly common wall and gate at their destination, he still asked, "Is this the place?"

The antiquated wooden sign to the side of the gate proclaiming this as the Tendo Dojo provided a succinct answer to the question.

"New students are welcome. No reservations necessary," Haibara read out from another sign hanging on the front door. She continued to read below it, "For those seeking to defeat the owner in savage combat, please use the rear door." She turned back to the group, and said, "I would say that either this is the place, or we stumbled onto some fighting ring."

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Ayumi asked. She took the opportunity to cling to Conan in worry.

Conan wasn't at all sure it was safe, and had wanted to leave Ayumi and the others behind for that exact reason. However, getting Ayumi worked up now would be counter productive. He chose to ignore the question, and said, "Now remember what I told you. We're here on a school project." He then opened the gate.

The primary structure inside the courtyard was a large two-story building with a pointed roof. There was a modest walkway leading to the front door, with trees lining both sides of the path. A faint splash of water could barely be heard coming from the left. On the right was a smaller building, presumably the dojo, from whence an occasional muffled shout could be heard. There was a variety of plants around the area as well, and they did a reasonable job masking the property wall a modest distance away. All of it combined to say one thing: the Tendo family had wealth. A property this size in Tokyo was worth a small fortune in land-value alone.

When Conan reached the front door, he pounded on it with all of his might. The small size of his fist translated that into something resembling an ordinary knock.

Several seconds later, the door opened to reveal an old man. He had a prominent handlebar mustache on his face which was in the process of turning gray, much like the hair on the top of his head was. They were a remarkably good match to the kogi he wore, which was may have once been black but was now in the process of fading to gray as well. Despite his age, he still carried himself with a gravitas and presence which spoke of being active and in good health.

Conan took a moment to look past the man and scan the interior of the house for family photographs, graduation diplomas, or anything else which might help him in his investigations. However, he did not get lucky. The entrance was as traditional as the house's exterior was. It had very few decorations, and they were so generic as to provide no personal detail on the house's inhabitants.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

"I'm doing a school project. I wanted to talk to you about Miwako Satou-keibu," Conan said, beginning the lie which would hopefully bring answers. It brought to mind the times Holmes had pretended to be a beggar or a seaman to gather evidence on his cases. In those various examples, though, Holmes had never had to account for the presence of three relatively ordinary children as companions.

Cautious suspicion sprung up the very moment Conan said Satou's name. The man's eyes narrowed and his face curved into a frown. It was obvious that the man knew Satou, and that he had had little practice with hiding his emotions.

"I'm Soun Tendo, the owner of this house. Who did you say you were?" Tendo asked. Conan internally gave a cry of triumph. This was the councilman who had assisted Satou in navigating the Japanese bureaucracy when she had been orphaned. The man was a veritable goldmine of information, if only Conan could harvest it out of him.

"I'm Conan Edogawa," Conan said with all the innocence he could muster.

"And we're the Detective Boys," Genta chimed in a moment later, causing Conan to internally wince. The inclusion of the children added a dangerous factor of uncertainty. Reference to detectives couldn't be good, but there was no doubt that Genta's natural childish enthusiasm was far more convincing that Conan's own.

Tendo directed his frown at Genta, but otherwise stayed silent. The man remained quiet, even as his eyes bored into each of the children one by one. He then looked up, and spent an extra long moment staring at Agasa.

Eventually, Tendo asked, "And what is this project?"

"Our teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grow up. We all want to join the police, so she told us that we're supposed to find out what the job is like. Satou-keibu is a really good police officer, and we wanted to know more about how she became one," Conan said.

"We're going to be defenders of justice, too," Mitsuhiko said.

"And she knows you're asking about this?" Tendo asked.

"Yes," Conan easily lied. "How else did I know to come here and ask?"

Tendo didn't relax in the least at this declaration. He vacillated back and forth, and looked to be on the verge of closing the door on them anyway. The continued tension spoke of some sort of dilemma. It was an odd reaction. If Tendo didn't believe Conan's story, then he should have just thrown them out. If Tendo did believe them, then he should have let his guard down. Conan wasn't sure what set of circumstances could have led to this indecisive reaction.

"So what do you want to know?" Tendo finally asked. He spoke tersely. As an adult man, it was expected for Tendo to speak very informally, but the forms of speech he used were borderline offensive. He made no move to invite any of them into the house, either. Both of those details were unusual, although they were merely distinctive rather than being anything conclusive.

"What was Satou-keibu like before she joined the police?" Conan asked.

Tendo's eyes narrowed. He asked, "What? Why do you need to know about that?"

Conan rapidly backpedaled. He affected a high-pitched voice, which he hoped hid his mistakes behind the facade of childish foolishness, and said, "I wanted to know what kind of person would go into the police. To see if we had anything in common, see?"

"I don't know too much about that. I didn't know the Satou family, and wasn't that familiar with her growing up," Tendo said.

Conan's own eyes narrowed in response. The first news reference Conan had found of Satou, and one of the precious few he had seen, had described how the poor orphan was stuck in the bureaucracy of Japan and how Tendo had assisted her in sorting out the mess. It was possible for a council member to do that for a complete stranger, but it was highly unlikely. Add to that how Akane had spoken to Satou with such casual familiarity at the tournament, and the chances that Tendo didn't have a long history with her was fleetingly small.

Moreover, Tendo was almost certainly a martial artist. The fading kogi he wore was enough evidence to suggest that. Presumably he was one of the practitioners of the Anything Goes school of martial arts. With such a small number of practitioners of that school, it was almost impossible that he didn't know Satou.

"So when did you meet her?" Conan asked. Asking about the lie would still likely reveal some useful information, if nothing else than indirectly based on what Tendo lied about and how he did so.

"Only a few years ago. It's more through Ranma-kun and Akane-chan," Tendo said.

Conan asked, "Really? Does it have anything to do with her practicing the Anything Goes school of martial arts?"

"Now see here. What does that have to do with policing?" Tendo asked.

"Satou-keibu's super awesome," Genta answered for Conan. "She was all like pow, wham, blam!" He mimed punching and kicking. "We all totally want to be able to beat up the bad guys, too."

Conan had never been more thankful for Genta's enthusiasm than when he had answered that question.

"Maybe," Tendo said. He still sounded suspicious. "If you want to take some lessons you can always come back later and talk to Ranma-kun and Akane-chan. Now if that's all."

The dismissal was obvious, made more so as Tendo moved to close the door on them. Conan knew he had gone too far. He weighed the reward versus the risk of trying to press Tendo for more answers. It was incredibly frustrating to be on the cusp of a breakthrough but be stymied for reasons unknown. However, the man was so guarded that Conan doubted he would actually be able to get anything out of him.

Conan let the door close and walked with the group back to Agasa's car on the street.

Mitsuhiko didn't even wait for the gate to close before he said, "So that was a dead end."

"Not at all. It was very informative. He knew Satou-keibu. I'm sure of it," Conan said, trying to put a positive spin on the interaction. He had gained some information, more by omission than anything, but not very much. Tendo knew Satou, and he was hiding that knowledge for some reason. The whole conversation didn't really make sense. The curt answers and suspicious tenor. It was closer to how criminals treated police questioning than how an ordinary person humored childish inquiries. It wasn't conclusive, but it was one more piece which may or may not fit into the puzzle that was Satou.

As Conan spoke, a limousine drove forward and pulled to a stop behind Agasa's yellow Volkswagen. The stark contrast of the expensive car against the plain yellow beetle exacerbated both, making the yellow car seem dilapidated and the flashy red limousine appear the height of extravagant splendor.

The rear door of the limousine opened, and Satou stepped out of it. Her presence caused Conan's adrenalin to spike. It was almost certain that she had followed them. She had even dressed in a kogi, which would facilitate both running as well as fighting far better than an ordinary skirt would. All of that suggested a high probability of a confrontation of some sort, and Conan fingered his stun watch in preparation to take action.

However, something about Satou felt strange somehow. Something about her felt a bit off. She looked close enough to trigger the common sensation of familiarity, but a close examination revealed a couple of subtle differences. Her stance was a bit wider. Her cheekbones were a bit more muted. Her eyes were a millimeter closer together. Her nose tilted a quarter degree more upward. If Conan had been told that she was Satou's identical twin, he would have believed it.

The woman glanced at the assembled group, but ignored them as she walked towards the gate Conan had just left.

"Hey, Satou-keibu!" Genta shouted out in greeting, completely oblivious to Conan's examinations and conclusions.

The woman immediately screamed and jumped.

"Whaa?" the assembled children asked, looking at each other.

"I'm not Satou! Or Saotome, Tendo..." the woman shouted as she turned around and ran back to the limousine, "...Ranma, Miwako, Ranko, Princess Roselie Harper Evelyn Paisley Kendall the Third..." she yanked the door open, "...or anybody else!" She dived head-first into the vehicle, a braided red pigtail streaming behind her. "Please don't hurt me!"

The pigtail was the final clue which Conan needed to slot everything into place.

"Wait! Nadeshiko-san!" Conan shouted. The only response was the squeal of the limousine's tires as it accelerated away, irrespective of the door still being open. The vehicle was two blocks away before a hand reached out, grabbed the still swinging door, and slammed it shut.

"What was that?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"Nadeshiko-san?" Ayumi asked. "Who's that?"

"I heard some people talking about somebody who looked like Satou-keibu, but I never met her before," Conan said. "I think that was her."

"So that was not Satou-keibu?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"No, I don't think it was. Did you see her pigtail?" Conan asked.

"Yes," Ayumi said with a nod. Genta and Mitsuhiko did not answer.

"Well, whoever she is, she's gone now," Haibara said.

"Then what do we do now? Shall we come back later and talk to that Ranma-san and Akane-san?" Mitsuhiko asked.

It was a good question. Conan had been so sure that he would get some conclusive information or a decisive lead at the Tendo Dojo that he hadn't bothered thinking about what to do if it turned out to be an investigative dead end. He had been correct in that he had found a veritable fountain of evidence, including a surprise appearance by an unexpected witness, but Conan had no way to actually collect any of it. It was time to move on to his next lead.

By far the next easiest location was the Tendo Law Offices. The business card was practically burning a hole in his pocket, never minding the fact that he had already memorized the address out of habit. Visiting the lawyer brought with it all sorts of challenges, though. What possible reason could a seven-year old have to visit? If Eri had been around, and if she had known what Conan was trying to accomplish, then Nabiki Tendo would have been his clear next destination. Without a convenient excuse, though, she was low on his list of priorities.

That left the two sets of restaurant owners. Between the two of them, the selection was obvious. Conan had no desire to face a bloodthirsty murderer again. That Mousse person had seemed reasonable enough, but there was no reason to take an unnecessary risk. That meant the next destination would be Ucchan's.

"Now, we go get some food. How does everybody feel about okonimyaki?" Conan asked.

Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta all cheered as they piled into Agasa's yellow beetle, Conan once again ending up shoved in between Genta and Ayumi. Haibara had less enthusiasm and maintained her stoic silence as she climbed into the front passenger seat. For his part, Agasa gave an unvoiced frown in protest at the suggestion. It was be obvious who would be paying for this excursion, and the combined five children's stomachs added up to a large bill.

The directions to Furinkan High School were still fresh in Conan's memory, and it was easy to direct Agasa how to reach it. While he didn't know where Ucchan's was precisely, Konatsu had said it would take him five minutes to make a round trip there to retrieve some supplies. Even accounting for sprinting speeds and exaggerations of rapid service time, that still placed the restaurant within several blocks of the school.

It turned out to be even easier to locate Ucchan's than Conan had expected. The very first pedestrian near the school he asked provided very clear directions on how to find it. Strangely, he spoke with a great deal of amount of respect and trepidation when giving Conan instructions, and then rapidly fled in the opposite direction once their conversation had ended.

As Conan had deduced, the restaurant was only a short distance away from Nerima High School. It was located in a building in obvious distress. The color-mismatch of the patches on the walls spoke of numerous hasty and cheap repairs. The building had even more patches than the already prodigious number he had seen on the average building in Nerima. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or scared.

The person hiding near the door to Ucchan's was a much more unusual presence, though, and one which interrupted Conan's ruminations and demanded attention. A casual glance might have disregarded the potted plant placed by the entrance as an ordinary street decoration to add a bit of color and atmosphere to the restaurant. However, Conan observed the footprints in the dust which led to the plant but not away, and the two leaves which swayed slightly every couple of seconds. It all led Conan to the conclusion that somebody was hiding within the foliage. However, he could not figure out what the person was doing in there. There simply weren't enough clues to do anything more than speculate as to a theory.

Conan stepped past the hidden observer and opened the door.

The restaurant was dominated by the large griddle in the center of the room with seats surrounding it, as was traditional in an okonomiyaki restaurant. In contrast, there were no customers. The most likely explanation, given the close proximity to the school, was that the majority of the patrons to the restaurant were students, and that the restaurant would become far more populated once classes had ended.

By far the most distinctive feature of the restaurant was the chef. The woman wore tight leggings and a form-fitting shirt, over which she wore a bandolier. Rather than a more traditional ammunition in her bandolier, though, she had strapped 10 small pieces of metal which Conan could have been convinced were spatulas. In contrast, he was sure the giant metal object strapped to her back was a spatula, ignoring the fact that it was was 10 times larger than any cooking utensil had any right to be.

Beyond her non-standard clothing and equipment, the most implausible thing about the woman was the activity she was engaged in. It was so strange that Conan stopped at the doorway for a second to make sure he was seeing it correctly. The woman threw one of the small spatula-like objects at the far wall, as if it were an exceptionally non-aerodynamic throwing knife. Once the small spatula reached the far end, there was a metallic plink as it impacted, embedding itself into the wall while simultaneously causing another pseudo-throwing knife to ricochet backwards. The woman then deftly caught the returning projectile despite its erratic flight path, paused for a second, and then repeated the feat.

It was an implausible trick, and one which Conan had been prepared to say was physically impossible. However, the woman repeated the shot three times, at which point something triggered the woman to whip out the enormous spatula strapped to her back and knock the returning projectile away from her.

The woman was pulling another spatula from her bandolier when Conan took the opportunity of the break in action to make his entrance. He moved some amount of trepidation.

"Welcome. Come in. Take a seat anywhere you'd like," the woman said. Meanwhile, she flung her hand towards the far wall and the wayward spatula still stuck in it. Some kind of thin rope flew out, lassoed the object, and pulled it back to her.

As unorthodox as the woman was, the restaurant itself smelled heavenly. The heavy scent of grilled meats and spices loomed in the air. The trip had been more to collect information rather than to get a meal, but Conan's stomach twinged at the invitation, and he found his mouth watering.

Conan disregarded his suddenly hungry state and asked, "Do you know you have somebody watching by your door?" Regardless of her answer, it would reveal something about both her and the situation.

"What? Where?" the woman asked.

"Over there, hiding in the plant," Conan said.

"What plant?" The woman walked out from behind the grill and approached the door. When she got close, she said, "You've got to be kidding me. Seriously? Tsubasa! How many times do I have to tell you? Go away!"

The plant Conan had identified earlier erupted into the figure of a slim man, much to the surprise of Agasa and the others. The children jumped away with small shouts, and Agasa gave a small start as well. Of them all, Haibara hid her surprise the best, but there were still signs for those who knew what to look for.

"But Ukyou-chan! I love you! Can't you see we're perfect for each other?" Tsubasa shouted. He charged at Ukyou. Branches, which had earlier looked natural growing from the pot, hung limply from the man's arms, and the pot itself had somehow contorted and transformed into a clunky pair of trousers.

"I told you I'm not interested!" Ukyou shouted. In the blink of an eye, she had whipped the humongous spatula out from her back and swung it at the incoming man. The flat of the blade smashed into Tsubasa's head with a resounding clang. The impact sent him flying through the air, out the door, and tumbling across the road. He rolled to a stop on the opposite sidewalk. It was a terrifyingly violent reaction which Conan was sure would leave the man a cripple, if not outright dead in what would be the easiest murder case he had ever been a party to.

"Y.. you killed him!" Ayumi cried out. She looked on the verge of crying, only being stopped by her terrified cowering from behind Conan.

"What? That? It'll take more than that to kill Tsubasa. Unfortunately," Ukyou said, the last word muttered under her breath.

Before anybody could respond, a shout from the still open doorway drew everybody's attention back to the street. "Get back here you old lech!"

A tiny old man, smaller than even Conan himself was, came flying down through the air. He landed straight onto Tsubasa's back. Then, as if the collapsed Tsubasa were a human trampoline, the old man sprang back high into the air. A scroll of some kind streamed from the tiny man's equally tiny hands as he bounded through the air.

"And that," Ukyou added flatly.

A second later, the much larger form of Saotome landed on Tsubasa's back. It was clearly a much harder impact, as Tsubasa's limbs reflexively splayed out in reaction to Saotome's landing and subsequent jump forward in pursuit.

"And that," Ukyou added flatly.

Silence reigned, until Tsubasa took the opportunity to pick himself up and start making his way forward.

"Only two today? How unusual," Ukyou said with a shrug.

"Is he okay? Should we call the police?" Genta asked.

"Or an ambulance?" Mitsuhiko added.

"You are new here, aren't you? I don't know where you come from, but there isn't much police here. Ambulance, too. We take care of ourselves," Ukyou said.

Her statement aligned with Conan's own observations. The only police he had seen in Nerima besides Satou herself had been the backup she had called in after the murder had occurred in the martial arts tournament. There was not a single siren, a single person in uniform, or even a single marked vehicle. It made for a very drastic change from the nearly daily contact he had with law enforcement in Beika City.

"So, what can I get you all?" Ukyou asked, now back behind the grill.

Conan hesitantly took a seat, his companions joining him thereafter.

"You need to bring us a menu, first," Haibara said. The lack of any listing of available dishes, either in a printed form or displayed on a wall, was conspicuous in its absence.

"That's because you can order anything you want," Ukyou said. She spoke with the playfully patronizing voice an adult used when addressing children and pets. If it annoyed Haibara, she gave no sign of it.

Genta was much more receptive to the message. He asked in an excited voice, "You mean like anything, anything?"

"Yep. Anything you want. I'm a grandmaster of Martial Arts Okonomiyaki. I got it all," Ukyou said. She flipped a spatula through the air, and then snatched it forward with a flourish. It was a simple trick, but it still looked impressive.

"I want one with squid, and eel, and jellyfish, and roe, and tuna, and... and... and..." Genta listed out as fast as he could, counting off on his fingers as he spoke. Beside him, Conan could see Agasa's face turn fractionally more and more pale with each additional ingredient.

"Okay. So one giant mega-seafood one, got it. How about you?" Ukyou asked Mitsuhiko.

They continued down the line, placing order after order, until they reached Conan. Here he took his first real gambit in the conversation. It was a bit of a risk, but it was the least suspicious way he could think of to probe for information. He said, "I'd like a Ranchan special."

Ukyou's eyes widened, and her face quirked into the hint of a frown. She asked, "And where did you hear about that?"

The next phase would be critical. Based on what Konatsu had said during lunch at the tournament, Conan was sure that Ukyou knew some information about Satou. The only questions were how much she knew, and how much of that Conan could cajole out of her.

Conan took advantage of the opening Ukyou's question presented, and said, "I saw Satou-keibu order it at the tournament, and it looked really good."

Ukyou's face instantly clouded, much like Tendo's had. Suspicion practically dripped from her voice as she asked, "Satou? You mean Miwako Satou?"

That reaction alone was informative. Satou was an extremely common name, yet Ukyou had instantly jumped to thinking of the correct person. Conan had expected to need to guide the conversation a bit more. Ukyou's instant deductive leap was a mixed blessing. It allowed Conan a definitive segue to the topic he really wanted to discuss, but it also risked a Tendo-like dead end.

Conan tried to mask his apprehension, and said in as innocent and enthusiastic a voice he could manage, "Yes. Do you know Satou-keibu, too?" He then watched and waited for Ukyou's reaction.

Ukyou sighed and shook her head. She said under her breath, "I just knew that two had been too few."

In a more normal, albeit cynical, voice, Ukyou said to Conan, "So he got you too? Let's see if I can clear up any misunderstandings before you go wasting everybody's time. I don't know what that idiot's promised you, but officially Michan's completely unrelated to him. I mean, I'd have thought the surname would have been enough of a clue. Your best bet is to go talking to Nabiki Tendo. Here's her card. I hope for your sake he hasn't already spent your bride-money, though. If he has, you're better off just giving up and walking away. There's already a long line to collect from the dumb panda."

Conan had no idea who this "idiot" person that Ukyou was speaking of, but it was clear that she thought that Conan did. Mention of bride-money implied that a marriage, or at least an engagement, was involved. This dovetailed nicely with the inclusion of Nabiki Tendo, and her specialization with divorces and contracts. If there was a contract involved, it was presumably with that unknown person, who was possibly the person officially unrelated to Satou. Moreover, the fact that Ukyou had emphasized that they were officially unrelated naturally raised the question of what their unofficial status was.

That was fine as far as it went, but it left so many questions unanswered. How could an apparent child be involved with an engagement of some kind? Why would Ukyou, who had never seen Conan before, automatically assume there was an engagement? How was a panda involved? It was like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle when he wasn't even sure that all the pieces came from a single picture.

Before Conan could follow up, Genta asked, "Bride-money?"

"That's why you're here, right? Or did I get it all wrong?" Ukyou turned to address Haibara. "Did you get engaged to Ranchan?"

"I'm a bit young to be engaged, don't you think?" Haibara said acerbically.

"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened," Ukyou said with a shrug.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken. None of us are engaged," Mitsuhiko said.

"Then why are you here? Trying to get back some magical artifact or scroll? You're trying to recover your sacred something of something something?" Ukyou asked. Concurrently, she flung a large glob of batter in a reckless arc through the air. Despite the lack of care in her motions, a single circular pool of batter landed in front of each of the customers.

Ayumi looked back and forth to the others, and then ventured a confused, "I don't think so."

Ingredients suddenly appeared on each of the okonomiyaki placements, irrespective of the fact that the batter had only been on the griddle for a few seconds. Ukyou's motions were even faster than Konatsu's had been at the tournament. Conan found it hard to follow everything she was doing. There was already a large heap of seafood on Genta's order, but that was dwarfed by the huge monstrosity forming in front of Conan.

"Oh," Ukyou said. "So you're just looking for some plain old revenge then? It's been a while since we've seen one of those. I guess we are a bit overdue."

"We're not looking for revenge. We fight for justice," Genta said, striking a bold pose while his eyes blazed with righteous vigor.

"Okay, okay. Just don't go fighting for your justice in here," Ukyou said to Genta. She then returned her focus back to her cooking.

The sequence of speculation Ukyou had put forward provided little help to Conan in his attempts to fit the bits and pieces he knew together into a cohesive whole. However, it did add more pieces which could help fill out the ambiguous puzzle in his head. There was a past of childhood engagements to this Ranchan person. Revenge and theft were somehow connected to Satou, and were a frequent enough occurrence that Ukyou had naturally assumed that that was their purpose in coming to Nerima.

On the other hand, everything Ukyou had said was horribly questionable. Her comment on magical artifacts could have merely been her echoing the superstitions of would-be vigilantes, but Ukyou spoke with none of the incredulity of somebody referencing something she didn't believe. If Ukyou really did believe in fictitious things like magic, she was necessarily an unreliable witness. That wasn't to say everything she said was a lie or should be ignored, but none of it could be fully trusted.

Thus far Ukyou had seemed more receptive to talk than Tendo had been, so Conan decided to take a chance. He casually mentioned, "It sounds like you know a lot about Satou-keibu." Almost as if to punctuate his statement, a low resonant thrum could be heard in the distance. It sounded vaguely like the rumble of thunder, although the weather forecast had predicted it to be a sunny day throughout Tokyo.

Ukyou responded by using one of the spatulas from her bandolier to fiercely flip all of the okonomiyaki up into the air. She glared at Conan and said, "I thought I told you to not go looking for your justice in here. I said I'm a grandmaster of Martial Arts Okonomiyaki, and I'm not afraid to defend myself if I need to." Punctuating her declaration, the six okonomiyaki fell back to the table simultaneously, each precisely landing in the center of a plate in front of each of the visitors.

"Okay. I was just curious," Conan said, sounding as contrite and scared as a seven-year old would be. It wasn't too hard of an act. Ukyou's sharp and intimidating glare skewered him to the back of his chair.

The opening of the restaurant door saved Conan. Ukyou turned to greet the new customers, two boys in Furinken school uniforms. They must have been part of a gang. They had identical haircuts: eye-gratingly awful buzz cuts. Ukyou wasn't put off by their intimidating figure, though, and started pouring some batter in front of them as they took a seat.

Conan turned back to his dish. It had been grilled for less than three minutes, and there was no way that it had finished cooking. With disappointment he cut into the enormous okonomiyaki in front of him. That disappointment quickly turned into surprise when it failed to slosh apart into a pile of goop. It looked correct, and it held together correctly as well.

"This tastes really good," Ayumi said.

"This is most delicious," Mitsuhiko agreed.

Conan took a tentative bite. It was savory, fluffy, crispy, succulent, flavorful, and utterly delicious. It didn't seem possible. Somehow Ukyou had managed to successfully cook an okonomiyaki to perfection in a fraction of the time that it should have taken. It wasn't the most critical mystery ever, but anything he didn't understand naturally yanked his curiosity and demanded satisfaction.

The door opened again, and three girls walked into the restaurant. They likewise wore Furinken school uniforms. The growing number of student customers filled Conan with the warm glow of a correct deduction. The girls appeared as strange as the boys did, though. They also had atrocious hair cuts. It was hard to say which looked worse: the boys' buzz cuts or the girls' bowl cuts. The similarity between them suggested that they were part of the same gang. Usually gangs chose to wear matching clothes, but conceptually, a haircut would be an equally valid signature.

As they ate, the strange echoing thunder repeated a second time. Conan turned to the windows to check his assumption that the weather was clear, and confirmed the sky was indeed still blue. In the distance, he saw a spec of something disappearing across the horizon. It was too far away to make out with any accuracy; there was no way that it could possibly actually have been a panda flying through the air.

There was a much louder crash of something nearby. That caused the other Detective Boys to take note and whip over to look at the door. Oddly, none of the locals to Nerima reacted in any way.

"What was that?" Conan asked.

"What was what?" Ukyou asked.

"That sound," Conan said.

Ukyou stopped moving for a second. She then said, "What sound? I don't hear anything."

"It sounded like a big crash," Conan said. The other Detective Boys nodded.

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it. It was probably Ranchan in another fight," Ukyou said.

"Ranchan?" Conan asked. The image of Ran getting in some kind of martial arts fight with some faceless figure came to mind, with her naturally defeating this unknown opponent. It was impossible that that was who Ukyou was referring to, not to mention he couldn't picture Ran doing anything to cause that large a crash, but the similarity of the name still caused that connection to be made.

"Yeah. You know. Ranma Saotome," Ukyou said. She then nodded her head towards the door. "There, see? Nothing to worry about." In a louder voice, she asked, "What happened this time?" Concurrently, Ukyou started to pour another blob of batter onto the griddle.

Conan turned again to the entrance, and saw Saotome walking in. He looked like he had been in a fight with a coal mine and had lost. His face and clothes were covered with what appeared to be scorch marks. His face was twisted into a scowl of frustration as he walked forward and took a seat at the grill in front of Ukyou. Despite his distinctive appearance, and the vague smell of burning hair when he passed by, none of the students paid him any particular attention.

"Happosai," Saotome said. Conan could practically see the black soot being expelled with his declaration.

"Again? Funny. He usually doesn't cause you any trouble," Ukyou said.

"He usually doesn't hide a building-sized Happo Daikarin. Twice," Saotome said.

"I see," Ukyou said. She wasn't even looking at Saotome. She was directing her attention to the massive and still growing okonomiyaki she was preparing in front of him. Conan noticed a striking similarity between this newest okonomiyaki and the one Ukyou had made for him earlier.

Conan stood up and walked over to Saotome. This was another opportunity. While he had found little information at the Tendo Dojo, he did know that Saotome was also a practitioner of the Anything Goes school of martial arts. He clearly had some kind of relationship to Satou. Beyond their interactions at the martial arts tournament, the mere fact that it was a family school and that they both practiced it suggested they had some relationship of some kind.

"Hey, Saotome-san," Conan said. The man fractionally flinched, and turned around in response. He then glanced down from the empty space he was looking at to see Conan.

"It was... Kuon-kun, right? What do you want?" Saotome asked.

"It's Conan. Conan Edogawa. I was wondering, you use the Anything Goes school of martial arts, right?" Conan asked.

The restaurant immediately grew quiet, with all of the students near Conan stopping their conversations to turn to look at him. Some of the teenagers near the door subtly stood up and made their way out the exit, while Ukyou casually grasped at the handle of the spatula on her back.

Saotome fidgeted slightly in his chair, slouching a bit while edging his feet sideways. He asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to learn more about it," Conan said.

The silence spread like ripples over a still pond until it filled the entire restaurant. All the patrons had stopped talking and were either overtly or covertly watching Conan. The whirl of the ventilation fans and the hiss of frying okonomiyaki suddenly sounded oppressively loud in the intense theater where Conan had unexpectedly found himself as the main character.

"Okay," Saotome said, with a casualness which didn't meet his face. "What happened this time? My old man stole something? Another engagement?"

Haibara turned from where she remained seated and asked, "You too? Why do people keep asking that?"

"Ehh... It happens enough times that it becomes habit," Saotome said. He awkwardly leaned forward and dropped his leg, pushing off in a strange way until he somehow ended up in a standing position. He towered over the much shorter Conan. "Saves time to try to get over the mysterious stalker phase and jump straight to the epic fight, too. So what's your story?"

"It's nothing like that. I just want to find out about something," Conan said. He shook both his hands in a gesture of placating denial.

Saotome didn't relax at all from Conan's declaration. He instead slowly eased his way two steps backward away from Conan and the others, and held himself in a strangely tense slouch.

"Like what," Saotome asked. His eyes remained focused on Conan with the intensity of a laser.

"Well, you know Satou-keibu, right?" Conan asked.

"You could say that," Saotome said.

Conan jammed as much childish innocence and enthusiasm as he could into his voice and said, "We wanted to find out all about those super cool fighting moves she does. Isn't that right, Genta-kun?"

"What?" Genta asked, turning his face to Conan and then to Saotome. He looked bewildered at having been called out, and at the sudden attention of the various spectators in the restaurant, but he recovered quickly. "Oh, right. She was all like super awesome. When she sneaked up on that bad guy holding Mitsuhiko hostage. Wow. I didn't even see her move at all!"

"Really?" Saotome asked. He had only flickered his attention to Genta, but then returned his focus back to Conan despite the fact that it had been Genta who had been speaking.

"Yeah! We want to be super cool police officers, too! Where can we learn stuff like that?" Conan asked.

It suddenly felt like the temperature dropped 10 degrees. An involuntary shudder went through Conan as Saotome's stare took on the intensity of a blast freezer, entirely focused on him. To the side, the students still remaining in the restaurant gave up even the pretense of subtlety and were quickly rushing out of the door and running away.

"So that's what you're on about? You can't," Saotome said. He somehow gave the impression of a strong glare even as his face remained coldly impassive.

"Why not?" Conan asked, seeking refuge in the excited whining of a child denied. "Satou-keibu learned it. Why can't I? I want to know. I want to know!"

"The secret techniques of the Anything Goes school of martial arts are secrets," Saotome said. He then nodded at Conan, and said, "I mean, would you be willing to teach your school's secret techniques to anybody who just asked?"

"Huh?" Conan asked. "What do you mean? I don't have any secret techniques." He had no idea what Saotome was referring to. The only thing he could think of were his abilities of detection, and there would be no reason Saotome should think he had those. Moreover, those were hardly a secret. He was happy to talk to anybody about the art and science of detection, to the point that Ran had frequently been forced to yell at him to be quiet.

"Of course you don't," Saotome said. "Well, if classes are really all you want, then you know where the dojo is. Don't go causing trouble, though, or I'll have to deal with you."

"If you are done, then I suggest you leave. You're bothering the other customers," Ukyou said. It was a bit silly to say now, as all the other patrons had already left, but Conan took the hint.

Conan exchanged a meaningful look to the others in the group. Despite the fact that he had only eaten a fifth of his okonomiyaki, he was stuffed, and the others appeared finished as well. They collectively stood and filed their way out of Ucchan's. Saotome moved to the side to let them pass, but continued to stare at Conan as they left.

They had barely reached the street when Mitsuhiko said, "That was unproductive."

Conan took a quick glance to make sure the door had closed behind them. It was definitely not the best place to talk, and Conan was annoyed that Mitsuhiko didn't have enough sense to wait until they were further away.

"What're you talking about? We got some great okonomiyaki. That was delicious," Genta said. He patted his stomach in satisfaction.

Conan started walking to the car, trying to get the others to follow and leave the exposed doorway. Ayumi and Haibara immediately started moving, which caused Genta and Mitsuhiko to follow, allowing Agasa to join as well.

"That is true," Mitsuhiko said. "However, we did not learn anything new about Satou-keibu."

"I wouldn't say that," Conan said. While he hadn't learned very much directly related to his investigations of whether or not Satou was a threat, he had learned a fair bit of background which could explain some of the strangeness and mystery of Satou. The frequent questioning of what his motives were in asking about things, and the obvious assumption Ukyou and the others had that violence was imminent spoke volumes.

"Oh? What did you learn, Conan-kun?" Ayumi asked.

"You're detectives, right? You should be able to figure it out on your own," Conan said, despite not really believing that it was in their skill level to do so. It was possible that they would be able to make the tenuous leaps of intuition to combine the disparate concepts they had discovered, but it was unlikely. Normally he would have shared more, but in this case he had no desire for the children to get more involved.

Genta took that challenge better than the others, enthusiastically saying, "That's right. We can figure it out." His loud voice made Conan thankful that they had moved out of earshot of Ucchan's.

"Then what do we do now, Conan-kun?" Ayumi asked.

That was the question. Conan thought about everything he knew and what he suspected. He knew that Satou knew Saotome and Tendo, and that she practiced the Anything Goes school of martial arts. It was more than that, though. Satou had some relationship to Ukyou, too. They were all martial artists, so it was likely that Satou was also involved in the martial arts community. That didn't help very much, though. Conan had no particular insight into that community, and he had already known that Satou practiced an obscure form of martial arts.

What else was there?

Thinking back to the newspaper articles he had read, Conan also knew that Tendo had helped the orphan girl get settled in the 90s. Between him, Saotome, Ukyou, and the several other people Conan had met in the martial arts tournament, that was a lot of people in Nerima connected to Satou. It was very possible that she had grown up in the area. He didn't have enough conviction to make an outright accusation, but it was enough of a lead to be worth pursuing.

That hinted at a good next step to take. The location wasn't that far away, either. If he was wrong, there shouldn't be any real harm done.

"We should go visit Furinkan High School," Conan said. If he was right that Satou had attended school nearby, there was a good chance that they could find some teachers there who knew her there. If he was especially lucky and persuasive, he might even manage to find some of her school records.

"Why there?" Ayumi asked.

The children had not made the connections. Conan didn't enlighten them, simply saying, "There may be clues there."

Furinkan High School was close enough that they didn't bother taking Agasa's car. It was easy to find, too. They simply had to follow the streams of Furinkan students traveling in reverse to their source. As they walked, it was impossible for Conan to not notice the odd consistency. All the teenagers wearing Furinkan High School uniforms had the same atrocious hair cuts he had seen in Ucchan's. All of the boys had buzz cuts, while all of the girls had bowl cuts. It was as standard as the clothing they wore.

By the time they reached the school, the courtyard was mostly empty. The last trickle of homeward-bound students were in the process of leaving. Somehow they gave the impression that they were even more eager to leave than was typical for students. While it wasn't the same as real evidence or concrete deductions, Conan never ignored his intuitive feelings, either.

The timing hadn't been intentional. The trip to the Tendo Dojo, the short interview there, and the visit to Ucchan's had all conspired to make Conan arrive at this perfect time. That didn't stop him from enjoying it, though. Any school administrators would be less preoccupied with the daily emergencies of the student body, and their eagerness to go home could make them more willing to divulge information than was normal.

Furinkan High School was a school unlike he had ever seen before. The statue that had drawn his eye the time he had come for the tournament was still there, standing in front of the main entrance. Where another school might have had a statue of a noble samurai or proud politician in a suit, this statue was of a man climbing on a coconut tree and staring off into the distance. In place of formal clothing, the man wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. The pit in front of the statue was still there, too. Unlike at the tournament, though, it was now filled with wood erupting in a giant bonfire.

The group made its way into the building and to the main office with Conan in the lead. It was a fairly common scene for an energetic boy to be charging forward in front of a more sedate adult. In this case, the boy was driven less by naive enthusiasm and more by deliberate interest in the destination. The office would be where the school staff were, where the student records were, and where he had the best chance of finding out some answers.

Much like the majority of the world, the main office was not designed for seven-year old children. There was a high counter top just inside the entrance. Despite standing on the tips of his toes, Conan could only barely see the top of somebody's head behind it. He couldn't even be sure if it was a man or a woman.

The parts of the room that Conan could see, though, lent a quirky feeling of fun to the atmosphere. There was a definite American holiday theme to the place. In the corner of the room was a plastic pool filled with water and sand. A palm tree grew out of a pot just behind it.

Conan gave Agasa a pointed look, and then stood back and let the situation develop as it would. As much as it galled him, as time went by, Conan was becoming better and better at acting through others. Adults rarely gave him any more respect than his small form would suggest they should, and his skills at subtle manipulation were slowly improving as a result. Besides the obvious situation with Sleeping Kogoro, Conan would plant ideas of questions in the head of the investigating detective, or he would stumble around a specific area to force it to become the focus of attention for a criminal investigation.

Agasa pointed at himself in questioning confusion, to which Conan nodded. Agasa nodded back, and then walked up to the long counter dividing the front and back of the office. He said, "Hello."

"What do you want?" a woman's voice asked. She spoke with a rudeness not typically found in a Japanese office.

"Uhh... yes. I'm gathering information on the different high schools around here. I'm trying to figure out which one my children should attend," Agasa said.

A woman's head came peaking out over the counter a moment later. She also had a bowl cut, adding more evidence to Conan's theory that the terrible hair style was related to Furinkan High School in some way. She wore a bright lei of flowers around her neck. It stood out as decisively unusual in a place as formal as a Japanese office. It matched the miniature beach and palm tree in the corner of the room, and it was probably some special event from the school management to increase employee moral. Based on how the woman was acting, it was probably overdue, too.

The woman said, "Aren't they a bit young to be thinking about that?"

"Not them. They're some kids I'm watching... for my neighbor," Agasa said. It was a woefully inadequate description of the impossibly bizarre situation Conan had found himself in.

Genta bristled at the comment. He said, "We're not just some kids. We're the Detective Boys. We're here to solve a mystery."

Conan had to resist the urge to elbow Genta at that comment. That would have just made the situation worse. Comments like that were exactly why he never liked involving the children in any situation requiring discretion or a delicate touch.

"That's right. We're going to solve the mystery of which school to go to," Conan quickly said, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as he could as he spoke. He hoped it would help cover up Genta's exclamation.

The woman leaned forward even more, revealing the bright Hawaiian shirt she wore in lieu of more traditional office attire. The lei around her neck slid forward across the desk and flopped off the edge to dangle in the air in front of Conan's face.

The woman shook her head, and then said in a quiet whisper, "Not here."

"What?" Agasa asked in a more normal voice.

"Shh..." the woman urgently hushed. "Not here. You don't want to come here. Find a different school."

"Why? Satou-keibu said this was a good school," Conan whispered back, trying to turn the conversation in the direction he wanted.

"Somebody said this is a good school? Who?" the woman asked. Shock and confusion fought for control of her face. She didn't even manage to maintain her conspiratorial whisper.

"Miwako Satou. She did go to school here, right?" Conan asked.

A voice bellowed through the wall, "Is there somebody be saying that Saotome wahine?"

"Oh no," the woman squeaked out. She pushed herself back behind the desk with a fierce urgency.

A door Conan couldn't see slammed open. A second later, a darkly tanned man wearing a florescent Hawaiian shirt and shorts barged out to the front of the office. His unseasonably garish clothes wasn't even the most unusual thing about him, nor was the dark sunglasses he continued to wear despite being indoors. The most distinctive part of him was the object on the top of his head. It looked uncannily like a tiny palm tree growing out of his scalp. Conan was sure it was just an optical illusion. It had to have been. It had to be an expertly-styled topknot, and not a real tree.

"No. I said Miwako Satou," Conan said, repeating the name louder this time.

"That's what I thought you said. I don't be caring what they says about her. Saotome is Saotome," the dark man said.

"And you are?" Haibara asked.

The man ignored the fact that he was being questioned by a seemingly small child, and said, "I'm the big kahuna of this island. I'm the one they call Principal, Kocho Kuno." He jumped up onto the long counter top and struck a dramatic pose as if he were on a surfboard and riding a long roller. The random pidgin English terms he threw in for no apparent reason did little to make his rambling more comprehensible.

"Who's this Saotome you keep talking about?" Genta asked.

There was only one Saotome that Conan had heard about in recent past, and the hints and allusions he had heard all pointed towards him. Conan ventured a guess. He asked, "Is that like Ranma Saotome?"

"That's Saotome. I don't care what anybody said. A deal's a deal, and Saotome broke it. After all I did, too. It's enough to make a man cry," Kuno said. Putting action to words, he pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes against his arm.

"What deal is that?" Conan asked. Unreliable information was better than the void of complete ignorance.

"That Tendo wahine comes to me and tells me that Saotome would be taking the official haircut if I sign something saying Saotome's somebody else. But Saotome stopped wearing the bowl cut, so I get to change my mind, too. Saotome is being Saotome. Saotome's always being Saotome," Kuno said.

The comment about the hair fit well with the absurd hairstyles that Conan had seen everywhere. He had seen far too many bowl cuts and buzz cuts for it to be a mere coincidence. The comment about a new name was interesting, too. If Satou had previously been a Saotome, that would neatly explain so many clues Conan had found.

On the other hand, Kuno was clearly mentally unstable. All of his testimony would need to be taken with even more skepticism than Ukyou's had been. Were the things Kuno was saying true, inspired by the truth, or merely delusional fantasies? There was no way to know for sure.

"Bowl cuts are required here? Eww..." Ayumi said.

"The malihini here be questioning me, too? The Big Kahuna be showing you who's in charge of this island," Kuno bellowed out. He whipped out some hair clippers from behind his back and started advancing menacingly towards them.

Ayumi gave a shriek and clung to Conan.

He made his decision in an instant. As reluctant as Conan was to use his wristwatch tranquilizer in front of witnesses, he was more reluctant to let the children around him come to harm. There was no telling what this crazy man would do.

Conan tried to raise his watch to shoot, but his right arm was pinned by Ayumi's embrace. With that tool of defense denied to him, Conan went to his backup plan and flicked his belt to deploy a ball to kick.

It was too slow.

"Ho'okipa Hair Hack!" Kuno was across the room and swarmed around all of them faster than the eye could follow.

The sound of electric buzzing filled Conan's ears for a moment before it was gone. All of it. He could feel a cool draft on his head, and a mass of dark hair pooled on the ground. Reaching up with his hand, he confirmed that he now sported a buzz cut. Looking over, he confirmed that Mitsuhiko had likewise been savaged, as had Ayumi and Haibara. Even Agasa had suffered, the long locks of hair on the side of his head having been clumsily cut short as well. The only one who remained untouched was Genta, who normally kept his hair even shorter than the buzz cuts the boys all sported now.

"There. Nows you all be like genuine kama'aina," Kuno said. He leaned back and gave a laugh as tremendous as his bellowing voice.

"Let's get out of here!" Conan shouted as he pulled Ayumi into a run away from the madman. The others quickly followed. They didn't stop until they were in the safety of the streets. Conan was left panting for air, and he was nothing compared to the gasping Ayumi was desperately doing.

When it became apparent that the principal had not pursued them, Ayumi tentatively reached up and felt what was left of her hair. It was a crude and uneven bowl cut. She then started to cry. Mitsuhiko likewise looked thunderstruck as he repeatedly rubbed his hair back and forth, on the verge of tears himself.

In many ways, this outcome was a good one. Investigating mysteries could be dangerous. It was an important lesson for them to learn, albeit a painful one. Hopefully the next time Conan warned them to be careful or told them to stay behind, they would actually listen. Against something more deadly like the Black Organization, the children would have been lucky to get off so lightly.

Conan reached up to feel his own buzz cut.

It was a lesson for him, too. He had fared better than his disastrous encounter in Tropical Land, but it was still an annoyance. Kuno had moved with a swiftness Conan would never have believed if he hadn't seen the blur himself. If the man had had a knife instead of a pair of hair clippers, that could have been the end. Conan would need to be more careful in the future, too.

Regardless of the cost, though, Conan did feel like he finally had the answers about that mysterious policewoman that had been nagging at him. Satou was clearly a person as fictitious as Conan himself was. That neatly explained the mistakes people kept making about her supposedly dead parents, the lack of any evidence of their deaths, and Satou's emotional flatness in talking about them. Her real identity was that of a Saotome. Based on similarity of features and ages, and her having learned the Anything Goes school martial arts, she was probably a sister of Ranma Saotome. She had likely wanted to escape the influence of an unscrupulous family member that Ukyou had kept alluding to.

Regardless of the reasons of why Satou wanted to leave, though, she had done so. With the support of Councilman Soun Tendo, who had assisted for unknown reasons, and Principle Kocho Kuno, who had assisted due to her acceding to his weird hair obsession, she was able to convince the Japanese government of her fictitious identity. Conan himself knew how little scrutiny minors received, and with the assistance of a couple of minor officials it would have been easy to force things through the indifferent local bureaucracy.

Satou's particular attention to him was attributable to the absurdly dangerous environment she had grown up within. In Nerima, police presence was purely nominal, and people would attack without warning. It was natural to be a bit more paranoid of the unusual in such circumstances, as Conan himself had become since Tropical Land.

There were still a few unexplained threads, like what a panda had to do with anything, but Conan felt satisfied with his conclusions. The core question of whether or not Satou was a threat to him had been answered. In the future, Conan would need to be more cautious around her as compared to most people to prevent his secrets from being exposed, but he was in no active danger.

Despite the unexpected assault, Conan still considered his trip to Nerima a success. The hair loss was annoying, but it would grow back in a few months. In contrast, his deductions would last forever.

* * *

Last Updated: June 12, 2018


	6. Chapter 6: Choice

Chapter 6: Choice

The ringing phone provided a welcome distraction from the report Miwako was writing on the Daimon case. The worst part about this particular piece of paperwork was that she only had indirect responsibility for it. Her draft would go to Shiratori, who would review it for corrections and changes. From there it would escalate to Megure, who would conduct another round of reviews before giving it the official police sign-off. Only at that point would it be delivered to the prosecutor's office for consideration. Even so, despite all the bureaucracy within Division 1, it still managed to be better than life in the Traffic Bureau.

Miwako put her pen down, reflexively flexed her cramping hand, and picked up the phone. She asked, "Hello?"

On the phone, a female voice urgently asked, "Michan! What'd you do this time?"

Although Miwako didn't recognize the voice at first, but the fact that the caller had called her "Michan" exposed her as Ukyou. While Miwako understood how her childhood nickname had naturally transformed to this new one with the adoption of her new identity, it had never quite struck her the same way. However, there was never a good way to bring the subject up with Ukyou, so she always let it go.

"Ucchan? How'd you get my number?" Miwako asked.

"It's not like it's that hard to call the police, and the operator forwarded me," Ukyou said. Then, in a mumble, she added, "... and I may have asked Nabiki-sensei for help..." With more confidence, she continued, "But never mind that. What happened? There were these kids in here asking about you. I said they should go talk to Nabiki-sensei, but Konatsu-chan said he saw them going to Furinkan High School."

"Don't tell me. Five kids and a man. There was a boy with a bow tie and glasses, and a bunch of random children," Miwako said.

"You know about them already?" Ukyou asked.

"Yeah. Tendo-san just called me. Same thing," Miwako said. Apparently her trip to re-establish some contact with the people back in Nerima had been wildly successful. It had only been one day since she had visited, and she had already received two calls, albeit both in regard to Conan.

"So who are they?" Ukyou asked.

"They're a bunch of kids who live in Beika City," Miwako said. She struggled to find something concrete she could say about Conan and his ambient strangeness, but she couldn't think of any appropriate description to add to her generic statement.

"Just some kids? They were talking about getting justice. You must have done something," Ukyou said.

"I didn't do anything," Miwako said.

"If you say so," Ukyou said, although Miwako could hear the skepticism in her voice. "Wait... Ranchan wants to say something to you."

The silence on the phone as the handset passed hands worried Miwako immensely. She could think of no good reason why Ranma would want to talk to her. Conan's presence had already been reported, and if Ranma had any useful information about him or the others, then he would likely have already told Ukyou rather than waiting to tell it himself. In contrast, she could think of one major bad reason he would want to have words with her directly. She braced herself for his tirade on her recent usage of the Umisenken.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ranma half-barked and half-hissed into the phone, using the controlled whisper of somebody trying to shout without actually shouting. "Those techniques are sealed for a reason."

"It's not what you think," Miwako said, repeating the phrase so common to her teenage years. "It was an emergency. I needed to do it to save a boy's life."

"I'm sure it looked like a good idea at the time, but what if those techniques leaked out? It'd be a disaster," Ranma said. If anything, his description was an understatement. A single misanthrope who knew the Umisenken could conduct a crime spree of legendary proportions.

The weight of the situation pressed down on Miwako. She said in a small voice, "They're not that easy to figure out, and I only used it one time."

"Once is already too much. We figured it out after seeing it only one time," Ranma said.

"But we're not exactly normal, now are we?" Miwako said, the ghost of a smirk crossing her face. "Ryu was trying to steal the techniques throughout our whole fight, and he never really got it. He's about as good as they come. What makes you think anybody else will? Even we didn't really get it until we got that letter."

"What about that Conan boy?" Ranma snapped back.

"He..." Miwako automatically started saying, but stopped as her thinking caught up to her mouth. She couldn't outright dismiss him.

Miwako had a working theory that Conan's mastery was that of detective work, which would mean that he probably didn't even care about martial arts techniques. However, she wasn't completely sure. There was always a chance.

After a few seconds of silence, Ranma said, "Well, you'd better find out then. You caused this problem. You solve it."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Miwako said. As much as it galled her, Ranma was right. In his place, she probably would have said the exact same things. This was a potential problem she had been ignoring, but it really did need to be brought to resolution.

"Okay," Ranma said. He continued in a much more normal tone of voice, "So, when're you gonna come by? Akane-chan's all excited to see you again." There was a moment of silence on the phone. "Ucchan's saying you need to come by, too. You promised."

"I know, I know. How about... uhh... next Sunday? Maybe lunch?" Miwako asked. She didn't think she had anything scheduled then.

"How about lunch next Sunday?" Ranma echoed the question, his voice muffled and muted over the phone. There was a brief pause. "The dojo, I guess." Another pause. "You remember what happened last time the Amazons came here?" A much longer pause.

Ranma's voice then came back much more clearly on the phone. He said, "Yeah. Sunday's good. Come on by to the dojo. We got classes until noon, but we got a few free hours after that."

"Sounds good. See you then," Miwako said.

"Later."

Both Ranma's as well as Ukyou's question continued to haunt Miwako as she hung up the phone. They were superficially unrelated to each other, but at the root they were actually asking the same thing: who was Conan, and what did he want with her?

Miwako didn't really know enough to say. She couldn't even remember having met the boy, or anybody from the Mouri family, prior to the Stadium Bomber case. Then again, that didn't really signify anything. She had never given a second thought to her cheery childhood farewell to Ukyou until the girl had one day shown up and demanded justice. Likewise, she never would have imagined that merely ordering lunch would have caused Ryouga to embark on an intercontinental quest for vengeance.

Her lack of memory of any interactions with Conan or the others was a piece of evidence, but it wasn't anything concrete that Miwako could really base anything off of. It made more sense to focus on the things she did know. Unfortunately, those things were remarkably few in number.

The most prominent thing which came to mind was Conan's solving the recent murder of Jiro Yamata. Miwako was sure that it hadn't been Mouri who had somehow been sleep talking, and Ranma had assured her that it had in fact been Conan who had identified the culprit. That combined nicely with, as well as neatly explained, the recent dramatic improvement in Mouri's success rate as compared to the horror stories Megure had told of the man's incompetence while in the official police force. It was very likely that it was actually Conan who was pulling the man's strings for some reason or another.

There was Conan's odd behavior as well. During the investigation of the bank manager's wife's murder, and indeed throughout the entire martial arts tournament, Conan had been playacting. His gesticulations and exclamations were an overenthusiastic parody of childhood. It reminded Miwako very much of her own parody of girlhood back when she had been hiding as Ranko Tendo or Yoiko Hibiki, as well as the numerous times she had scammed for some free food before she had had a stable source of income. It was the type of act that could only be performed by those who had the benefit of an outside perspective on how others viewed them.

In addition to Conan's strange behavior, there was also the notably large quantity of crime that the boy regularly came in contact with. It was utterly insane, only being beaten out by Shinichi Kudo. Shinichi Kudo, the teenage detective. The teenage detective who nobody had heard from for the past few months. The past few months, during which Mouri's successes in solving crimes had improved tremendously.

It made for quite the coincidence, and Miwako was naturally suspicious of coincidences.

Was it possible that Shinichi was somehow related to Conan? One disappears, and the other shows up, as if Shinichi had somehow been cursed to transform into Conan. Of course, that was utterly unbelievable. It was just as insanely implausible as a boy turning into a girl at the application of cold water, or as a doll which could possesses shrine vandals, or as a staff which could warm an entire mountain, or as a brazier which could split a Jusenkyo curse victim into two non-cursed people.

Without a doubt, it was a wild conclusion. Miwako had no real evidence supporting it, instead only having a number of odd coincidences and an intuitive feeling about the situation. It was certainly nothing solid enough to present to a prosecutor to build an actual case. However, crazier things had happened in the past, and trying to confirm or rebuke this theory was better than doing nothing while Conan and his coterie were off planning some epic revenge scheme due to her unknowing ruination of their lives, or were off unlocking the mysteries of the Umisenken in preparation for some nefarious scheme.

Miwako pushed away from her desk. She wanted to conduct at least a basic investigation into her theory while the idea was still fresh in her mind. If nothing else, it would provide a welcome break from her dreadful report writing, and Miwako's hand could use the rest.

It was a short trip to Teitan Elementary School. Once there, the school's administrators proved to be every bit as efficient and helpful as Miwako had come to expect of office workers throughout Tokyo. All it had taken was a cursory look at her police identification, and she had the thin folder representing Conan's permanent school record in her hands in a matter of seconds.

There was a photograph of Conan in the top right corner of the first page, with the rest of the space dedicated to listing basic administrative data such as his name and the date he had transferred into the school. On the second page, in a particularly large box for hand-written comments, was a blurb from Sumiko Kobayashi, his teacher, saying Conan was exceptionally smart and talented. The grades which were listed on the third page confirmed that.

Miwako sketched a couple of notes into her notebook, including the date of Conan's transfer, and returned the folder to the school administrator. She then asked if she could see Shinichi Kudo's as well. That raised several eyebrows, but no actual questions. She was sure that the administrators were desperate to know what she was investigating, but they were too polite to outright ask. She wasn't prepared to indulge them, either, so merely waited in silence as they went to dig up Shinichi's old file from the archives.

After about half an hour of waiting, they returned with a second folder which was substantially larger than Conan's. As soon as she opened the cover to it, though, Miwako knew she was on the right track. The Shinichi in the photograph was a few years older than Conan, but he still looked conspicuously similar. The only real difference was the glasses that Conan wore, and Miwako had used that trick too many times herself to be fooled by it.

Everything else looked the same: good class attendance, no major absences, very intelligent, excellent grades. However, that in and of itself didn't signify very much. The same basic characteristics would probably match a quarter of the student body. It was one more sliver of evidence on the growing pile, though.

Miwako sketched out a few final notes, returned the second folder, and then departed the school for her next destination.

The administrators at Teitan High School proved to be even more accommodating than the ones in the elementary school had been. At the mere mention of Shinichi's name, they were only too eager to provide any assistance they could. The biggest difficulty she faced in trying to find out information about Shinichi was the number of inquisitive looks all the staff members kept directing at her. Miwako had to give a number of pointed looks in return before they finally gave her the space to take a look at the papers in question.

Besides the photo in the corner of the front sheet, the most prominent thing in Shinichi's record was the long string of absences he had had in the past few months. He had had a nearly spotless record up until that point, and then it had abruptly changed. Miwako double-checked her notes, and confirmed that the date was almost an exact match for when Conan had enrolled in Teitan Elementary School, Conan enrolling shortly after Shinichi's disappearance.

There was a small note in the folder commenting that Shinichi's father had arrived at some point to tell the school that his son would be absent for some period of time, but there was no description as to the cause of the absence. Miwako didn't have very much faith in that piece of evidence, though. It would have been easy for somebody to fake such a visit, and that was assuming it had actually happened for real and that the school hadn't been subverted in some way. She and Nabiki had managed to convince Principal Kuno, after all.

It was all the evidence that Miwako needed. She had no chance of being able to prove it, but she had seen enough to be convinced that Conan was the same person as Shinichi.

Miwako's mind was swimming in the implications of what she had discovered as she made her way back to the office. Now that she had made the connection, the follow-up path of what she needed to do was clear. While Conan himself was a mystery, Shinichi was a person well known to the police. He had helped in so many cases that he was practically an unofficial member of the force. Miwako doubted there was a single officer who hadn't heard at least a rumor about him. While Miwako herself had rarely seen him, she knew somebody who had had far more contact.

Upon returning to the office, it was a quick matter to locate Megure and ask him, "You know Shinichi Kudo, right?"

Megure stopped walking through the hallways to turn to Miwako. He asked, "Shinichi Kudo? You mean that teenage detective kid?"

"Yeah, that's him. What do you know about him?" Miwako asked.

"Well, he's the son of Yusaku Kudo, that famous mystery writer, and Yukiko Kudo, that famous actress," Megure said. His gaze drifted upwards as he thought about what he remembered. "He likes to show up at big crime scenes and get involved. He can be a bit annoying at times, but nobody's better at deducing how a crime happened, except maybe his father." Megure looked back down at Miwako. "I used to call him from time to time on the really hard cases. He'd always drop everything and rush out to help. Recently he's stopped answering the phone, though, and I haven't seen him for a while."

"Does he do any martial arts?" Miwako asked.

"I don't think so, but I think he's got a friend who does some," Megure said.

"Do you know if he's sworn undying vengeance on somebody, or if he's ever kidnapped anybody and held them hostage unless he was taught some secret technique?" Miwako asked.

"Not that I know of," Megure said, much more hesitantly than before.

"How about marriage? Has he been engaged to anybody? Or maybe he loves a girl who is engaged to somebody else?" Miwako asked.

Megure turned his face a bit to look at Miwako more closely. He asked, "Say... are you feeling alright? Now that I think about it, it's been a while since you've had a holiday."

"No, no. I'm fine, never better," Miwako said. She scratched the back of her head in nervousness at Megure's close examination.

"Okay, if you say so. Still, if you need me to reassign the Daimon case to somebody else, let me know," Megure said. His gaze continued to linger on Miwako.

"That's okay. I'll have the draft report ready by Monday," Miwako said. Inwardly she sighed. Paperwork. There was always more paperwork. It was amazing how little time she actually got to spend doing fieldwork and the other things the public assumed detectives did all day.

"Okay," Megure said. He spoke with concerned hesitation. Nevertheless, he still turned away slowly before continuing on his journey to his desk.

Miwako was disappointed. She had already known the official description of Shinichi. She was more interested in the unofficial reality behind the official story. Megure's short and banal description had provided none of it. Moreover, her brief interaction also suggested that nobody in Division 1 would be able to help her. If Megure didn't know of any quirks or strangeness to Shinichi, then there was no way that Takagi, Chiba, Shiratori, or anybody else would. Nobody knew more in Division 1 than Megure did.

That left a single option: to go outside of Division 1. Miwako knew exactly how to do it, too, and hurried back to her desk to do so. She scratched out a short memo and handed it to an office lady to deliver to Yumi. Nobody was better at mining the dross of unofficial rumors for nuggets of useful information than her former partner was.

With that out of the way, Miwako went back to checking her neglected pile of scrawled notes and compiling them into a more comprehensive, as well as legible, summary. The break had been rejuvenating, and she approached the prospect of the work with something closer to cautious eagerness than the despondent resignation she had had a few hours prior.

The only thing Miwako knew for certain was that Daimon had landed on a plane from South Africa at precisely 11:25. As best she could tell, based on 14 witness testimonies of varying confidence, he had taken a shuttle to his hotel, checked in, and subsequently left. Five hours later, his corpse had been found in an alley behind a restaurant, stuffed into a wooden crate. In addition to the large gaps of time she couldn't account for, there were a couple of outliers which she couldn't fit into the timeline at all, such as the claim of a taxi driver that he had driven Daimon to an office building on the west side of Tokyo in the morning at around 11:00.

She was halfway through her notes of the interrogation of Hisakawa, the restaurant owner who had found the body, when she heard Yumi approaching. Miwako turned around just in time to see Yumi snap a salute and say, "Office Miyamoto reporting as instructed, ma'am."

"You could have just called me," Miwako said.

"And ignore a summons from the great Assistant Inspector Detective Satou?" Yumi asked. She managed to hold her face in rigid seriousness for a full three seconds before it cracked into a smile.

"Cut it out, Yumi-chan. You're the same rank as me," Miwako said.

Yumi finally let go of her salute, her stiff posture hopelessly ruined by an onslaught of irrepressible giggles. She said, "But you're the big-shot in Criminal Investigations, not a common traffic woman like me."

"I said it before. You can change, too. Megure-kaicho is always looking for good people, and I'll vouch for you," Miwako said. She would have loved it if her former partner joined. Based on how well she navigated and interpreted the gossip in the office, she would excel at witness interrogations. If Yumi had been investigating this case instead of her, these disparate testimonies would have already been brought into some harmony with a working theory about what had happened.

"And get shot at? No thanks," Yumi said. "So why did you want to talk?"

Miwako stood up and leaned back against her desk to face Yumi directly. She asked, "I wanted to know... What do you know about Shinchi Kudo?"

"Shinichi Kudo?" Yumi asked. "You mean that high school detective?"

"Yeah, him. What do you know about him?" Miwako asked.

"Ehhh?" Yumi's face broke out into another big grin. It was all the warning that Miwako needed to mentally brace herself for what was sure to come next. "Isn't he a bit young for you?"

"It's not like that," Miwako said, rolling her eyes in response to the ridiculous implication. "I just want to find out what's his deal. I know he helped the police all the time, but I never really bothered to find out more. So what's his story? Why did he keep showing up at all those crime scenes? Is he a good guy? Maybe he does some martial arts?"

"Oh, really... Are you sure you don't have a shota-complex?" Yumi asked salaciously. She nudged Miwako with her elbow.

"Yumi-chan..."

"Okay, okay. But why are you asking me? Why not ask your friends in Division 1? It's not like he has much to do with the Traffic Bureau," Yumi said.

"I did, a bit, but they didn't know much. I wanted to learn if anybody else around here knew anything, and you know I'm no good at that kind of stuff. You're the Queen of Gossip around here, not me," Miwako said. The extra bit of flattery would do no harm in convincing Yumi to help out. If there was one thing Yumi loved to do, it was gossip.

"Well..." Yumi said slowly, "Okay. I'll ask around and see what I can find out."

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver," Miwako said.

"You're welcome. Incidentally, I just got off shift. Do you want to go and see a movie or something?" Yumi asked.

"Sorry, but I got to get this report written up by Monday. I got 14 witnesses, and some of them don't match up," Miwako said.

"Ouch. Well, next time for sure. Good luck," Yumi said, and then left.

Miwako sat back down and resumed her tedious task. As she reached for her worn notebook, a name on the passenger list of the flight from South Africa to Japan on the top of the stack of papers caught her eye: Fumito Hisakawa. She had seen that recently somewhere. A quick skim through her notebook revealed why it looked so familiar. It was the same surname as the restaurant owner who had found Daimon's body. It might have been a coincidence, but it was definitely worth investigating further.

Miwako jumped to her feet, grabbed the sheet, and ran off to find Shiratori. He would definitely want to know about this latest discovery. Thoughts of Shinichi, Conan, and everything else were immediately driven out of her mind. She had her normal job to perform.

Over the coming days, various cases continued to occur as they always did. The strange flintlock pistol the delivery company had turned in to the police was quickly resolved to be a simple case of a misfiled permit. The gun in question was delivered to the inquiring museum with a friendly warning to be more careful in the future.

The body at the Tsukiji Fish Market was less clear of a case. It had been promptly reported, and on the surface it appeared to be an industrial accident. However, there were some unexplained and suspicious puncture wounds on the body, and the arm had been gruesomely crushed by something. It would warrant further inquiries to determine if there was any malicious activity involved in the death.

There was one obvious murder, too, but Miwako and the others were having difficulties making any progress. The torso had been found in a park, but the head and hands had been removed from it, making identification of the victim exceptionally difficult. Miwako had been tasked with searching through the missing persons reports in the hopes that something would stand out.

Her search through the lists of missing people brought to mind how Shinichi had also disappeared, and how she had never heard back from Yumi about him. It had been several days since she had spoken to her former partner, and it was likely Yumi had learned everything she was going to.

Miwako decided to follow-up on that thought before she forgot it again. It was near the end of the day anyway.

She stood up from her desk and took a walk through the office. Along the trip, she was constantly reminded of her years back in the Traffic Bureau. While the area had been redecorated, the core layout had endured.

Even before she entered the women's changing room, the smell of sweat and perfume provided a musky hint that she had arrived at her destination. It brought to mind the time Miwako had worked with Yumi, patrolling the city and writing parking tickets for the greater good of Tokyo. The olfactory assault doubled as Miwako pushed open the door to the room, nonchalantly taking an action which had gotten her pummeled more than once back in high school. Now, nobody bothered commenting as she walked in. It was a bit unusual to see somebody outside the Traffic Bureau inside, but it was not unheard of.

Yumi was in the middle of pulling on her blouse when Miwako said, "Hey, Yumi-chan."

"Miwako-chan? What brings you here?" Yumi asked.

"Did you find out anything about Shinichi-kun?" Miwako asked.

"Oh, him?" Yumi asked. As she spoke, she continued to change from her work uniform to civilian clothes. "From what I gather, he's the son of some famous mystery writer. Most of the people here think he's some mystery otaku or something, and he solves cases just for the fun of it. He seems like a good enough kid. The only bad thing anybody had to say about him was that he would always make the investigating officer look bad whenever they got it wrong."

"So that's it? No weird absences? No strange mysteries or rumors around him that nobody understands Nobody near him go missing or suddenly change?" Miwako asked.

"Well, he's gone now, if that what you mean. One day he just stopped showing up, but that's all anybody really knows. Some people in Division 3 thinks he's got on some big international case, but nobody's really looked into it. It's not like he was ever required to show up and help us, and nobody's filed a missing person report. You know how kids are. He probably just lost interest and moved on. Even the papers have forgotten about him. They're now all talking about some other high school detective out in Osaka," Yumi said.

"No, not that. I know he disappeared a few months ago. I meant before that. Any strange rumors about him from before then?" Miwako asked.

"Not that I heard. Why do you ask? Do you know something?" Yumi asked.

"Not exactly. I'm just asking," Miwako said.

"You're weird, you know that?" Yumi asked. She sent a pointed glance at Miwako.

Miwako shrugged her shoulders in response. She said, "You've said that before."

"Well, I haven't heard about anything before this recent thing," Yumi said.

"What about martial arts? Did you hear anything about that?" Miwako asked. She already thought she knew the answer, but getting another reconfirmation wouldn't hurt.

"Nothing about that, either. I think he's got a girlfriend who's got a black belt, though. Maybe that's what you're looking for?" Yumi asked.

"No, just wondering about him. Thanks for checking for me," Miwako said. If Ran was the extent of martial arts Conan had contact with, there was nothing to worry about.

"You're welcome," Yumi said.

"Say, you want to get some dinner?" Miwako asked.

"Sure," Yumi said. "Just let me finish changing."

Normally, Miwako was only too happy to leave her work problems behind her when she left the office. The situation with Conan proved to be different, though. It continued to plague her throughout the evening, and it prevented her from really enjoying her dinner.

Back when she had been Ranma, it had always been simple: challenger shows up, they fought, and then the matter was resolved. That had abruptly changed on that fateful day she had split into two people, gaining the independent identity who would one day become Miwako Sato. Once that had happened, the pattern had stopped for her. She had been both relegated to as well as liberated to the role of spectator in the various adventures which continued to befall Ranma. Even that relatively limited interaction with crazy problems had stopped once Miwako had left Nerima.

To suddenly be thrust back into the world of inexplicable masters doing inscrutable things was annoying. Conan wasn't even a martial artist. That reassured her that her concerns about the Umisenken were a non-issue, but it also eliminated the most obvious potential explanation for his actions.

Miwako found that the waiting game did not suit her in the least. If Conan wasn't going to do anything to resolve his unknown problem with her, than Miwako would need to take steps to end things herself. Her ignorance of why Conan had targeted her didn't preclude her from being prepared, though. Even if she didn't know what it was specifically that needed to be ended, she knew a general bargaining chip she could use to hopefully resolve his vendetta against her.

Once Miwako returned home, she went directly to her phone. It had been years since she had used it, but she had never forgotten the phone number of the Tendo Dojo.

The phone rang once, and then picked up.

"Kumon Dojo, this is Ryu."

The surprise of the answer left Miwako stunned into silence. She was sure she had dialed the correct number. As tried to figure out what had happened, she heard Akane's distant shout through the receiver. "... idiot!"

There was a crash, and then silence.

"Hello?" Miwako asked into the suddenly quiet phone. "Hello?" Nobody answered. "Hello?"

After a few seconds, Miwako hung up, and tried dialing the number again. She was met with a busy signal. She tried calling a third time a few minutes later, but still had no luck. In the end, she decided to give up. She would be visiting in a few days anyway, and it would be easier to ask in person.

The remainder of the work week brought with it an interesting development. A hospital had called in saying they had a crate full of rifles. It was entirely unexpected; the container was supposed to contain a shipment of crutches. Some superficial checks had uncovered their shipping manager, Shuji Taida, had disappeared about a week earlier. It was likely a mere coincidence, but Miwako had a secret hope that they had found their unidentified corpse. It was something to follow-up on on the following Monday, when the delivery company's office re-opened.

In the meantime, Sunday arrived. It brought with it all the excitement but none of the nervous apprehension of Miwako's trip to the martial arts tournament two weeks earlier. She now knew she would be a welcome visitor.

Back in the tournament, everybody had been so preoccupied with either running the event or competing within it that she really hadn't had a chance to talk to anybody after Lotion had been caught. Miwako was eager to fix that. She looked forward to having more time to talk with Ranma and Akane, not to mention seeing all of the others again. In particular, it would be good to catch up with Kasumi and to find out how she had managed to reconnect with Tofu. Miwako had lost track of the doctor half-way through her first year in Nerima, and she was curious what he had been doing over the years.

The walk through Nerima brought with it countless memories. The scars of combat she had created in her youth had all but vanished, replaced by numerous more recent signs of battle. It made her glad that she had taken the time to modify all her clothing through a judicious use of Martial Arts Tailoring. Re-sewing a couple of seams and adding a couple of reinforcements were minor changes, but they made a dramatic difference in terms of mobility and versatility. She didn't expect to need to use them, but it was Nerima, and that always warranted a little extra preparation.

As she approached her destination, the distant shout of a small crowd floated through the air. For a brief moment, Miwako pictured a mob of women chasing after Happosai, but that thought disappeared as she heard more. It was too unified to be a random mob, and their cries were too specific. Rather, it sounded like a group of students performing a kata in unison. The size of the cry proved that the martial arts tournament hadn't been a fluke of good luck. It appeared that the Tendo Dojo actually had brisk business. They had enough people that she could hear them from over a block away, and the volume grew commensurately louder as she reached her destination.

Miwako opened the front gate, disregarding the old sign about savage combat. The loud cries of the practicing students' training continued, but she ignored them in favor of the carnage in front of her. To the side of the walkway leading to the Tendo household was an overturned okonomiyaki cart. Batter covered its sign, rendering it illegible, and a plethora of ingredients were tossed around as if the cart had been the touch-point of a particularly targeted tornado.

The quick glance told her everything she needed to know. Ukyo was around, and something had happened. On the other hand, she had known that even before she had left her home in the morning. It was Nerima; something was always happening.

Miwako proceeded to the front door and gave it a sharp knock. She could feel the excitement of anticipation as she tried to guess who would answer.

The door swung open, and the sight of the person answering her knock caused Miwako to gasp.

"Kasumi-chan! You're huge!" Miwako exclaimed. Her thoughts belatedly caught up with her mouth, and she sheepishly added, "I mean... that's to say... Uhh... Congratulations?"

"Good morning, Miwako-kun. Yes, I'm pregnant again. It's our third one. Sachiko-chan is going to get to be an older sister, too," Kasumi said. Despite the loose dress she wore, it was obvious that Kasumi was heavily pregnant. She rubbed her bulging belly as she spoke, her smile somehow growing even warmer as she did so. She had also gained a couple of small wrinkles and sag-lines on her face over the years. Besides that, though, she still looked very much like she had back as a teenager. The tall woman still wore her hair long, and she still carried the same ambiance of quiet domesticity she had always had.

"Sachiko-chan?" Miwako asked.

"Yes. Our daughter. She'll be turning two soon. We also have a son, Haru-kun," Kasumi said. She turned her head, directing her gaze back to where a little boy was half-hiding behind the corner and cautiously peering out at Miwako. "Come on, Haru-kun. This is Satou-san. She's a friend of your mother's. Say 'hello.'"

Haru looked up at Miwako, frowned, looked down at the floor again, and mumbled a quiet, "Hello."

"Hello," Miwako said.

"Good boy," Kasumi said to Haru. In a quiet voice, she said to Miwako, "He's still a bit shy around strangers." Then, louder, she said, "Come in. It's almost lunchtime. You must be hungry."

"Excuse me," Miwako said, stepping through the open doorway. As she took off her shoes, she asked, "So who else is here today? I assume that's Ucchan's cart out there. Anybody else?"

"That's right, although Ukyou-chan isn't here right now. She left with Xian Pu-chan and Ranma-kun to go play with Happosai-san somewhere," Kasumi said. Miwako could picture the actual events behind the euphemism that Kasumi used. "Ku Lon-san and Mu Tsu-kun are still here, though. I think they are upstairs talking to Nabiki-chan. Akane-chan is here too, but she's finishing up her morning classes. They should be done, soon."

"I see," Miwako said, as she stood up and followed Kasumi into the house. "What about that Nadeshiko person. Is she around?" She was curious who this doppelganger of hers was. Anybody who could tolerate Kuno, let alone reform him, was somebody she had to meet.

"Nadeshiko-chan?" Kasumi asked. She leaned down to pick up the grasping Haru and carry him in her arms. "I'm sorry, but she only comes on weekdays. The Saotomes are here, though."

Miwako's unconscious nodding immediately stopped at that last statement. Her jovial mood abruptly evaporated, replaced by a nameless apprehension. She had not been expecting that at all, although in retrospect, she probably should have at least considered the possibility.

Kasumi looked over to where Miwako had stopped. She asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine," Miwako said, resuming her walk forward. She was uninvolved with the Saotomes, and on an intellectual level she knew that that meant there was nothing that the Panda could really do to her. However, that knowledge didn't help her senseless emotions any more than the intellectual knowledge that a little kitten was essentially harmless helped her with that problem. There was still this niggling worry that, if she wasn't careful, the Panda could still somehow do something to cause her to once again become entangled with one of his crazy antics.

"Okay. Feel free to wait in the living room. It will only be a minute until lunch. I just need to finish setting the table," Kasumi said. She continued to walk to the dining area, still carrying Haru in her arms.

The living room had not undergone any substantial changes since the last time Miwako had seen it. The scene of Tendo and the Panda playing shougi was essentially identical to any number of other matches Miwako had seen from back when she had still been in school. The only difference was the presence of Tofu, who was sitting in a corner reading some magazine. While he was an unfamiliar new addition to the scene, his appearance fit in as comfortably as all of the usual members of the Tendo household.

The Panda was the first to take notice of Miwako's entrance. He looked up, and said, "Ahh! Miwako! I'm glad you're here. I was hoping to see you today." His voice was surprisingly thick with emotion.

"Hello," Miwako said back cautiously.

"I missed you," the Panda said. It looked like he could be on the verge of tears. It wasn't at all what Miwako had expected. Maybe the Panda... maybe Genma had gotten better over the years and was interested in a reconciliation.

"It's nice to see you too," Miwako said. She was still hesitant, but it had been a long time. She was willing to give Genma another chance, if he really had changed.

"Yes. Now that you're back, everything will be better. You'll see," Genma said. His new attitude would have gone a long way towards explaining why Ranma was so reluctant to abandon the Saotome name now. It was a surprising, and welcome, development from the man.

"You can marry Ryu-kun. That'll solve everything," Genma... the Panda said.

Miwako's tepid optimism collapsed, and she immediately started to fume. The nerve of the Panda to even think she would do that was infuriating enough, but the offensiveness of actually making the suggestion angered her in the extreme. She was tempted to punch him into the koi pond in the backyard to revert the Panda to his less offensive form. However, she knew better than to take action. More likely than not, such an attack would amount to nothing. It was Nerima, and casual violence was treated in a very different way in this special district as compared to the rest of Tokyo. However, doing so would be getting involved with the Panda, and that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. There was no telling what would happen if she did so.

The Panda continued, "You'll take on the Kumon name, of course, and you can help him found the Kumon school of Anything Goes martial arts. Naturally he'd be the master of the school, but I'm sure he'd let you have a place in it."

It took all the bits of the Soul of Ice technique Miwako knew to keep from twitching. Having sexy pictures taken as bait for Happosai was nothing compared to what she felt towards the Panda.

The Panda said, "Obviously you two wouldn't get the dojo, but that's okay. I'm sure you earn enough to support the both of you."

Miwako briefly considered reaching for her gun and taking a shot. If she didn't actually hit the Panda, maybe it would be okay. It would certainly be reckless endangerment, assault with a deadly weapon, and who knew how many other crimes, but it might almost be worth it.

The Panda said, "No, what am I thinking? You'd want to be like Kasumi-chan and have lots of children. We need somebody to carry on the art to the next generation. I'd even be willing to do you a favor and take them on a training trip."

Miwako's deliberations on whether she would be able to convince the police internal review board and the prosecutor that her actions were justified were brought to an end with a cry of "Old man!" She turned just in time to see Ranma leaping through the air, foot extended.

Ranma connected with the Panda and sent him hurtling backwards.

There was a tremendous crash as the Panda tore through the wall, leaving a huge hole behind where he had smashed through it. It was followed up with the traditional splash as the Panda fell into the much-abused koi pond in the backyard.

"Oh my," Kasumi said from the dining room table. She paused in her plate placements and looked up. She asked. "What was that?"

"That was me. I'll fix it after lunch," Ranma called back as he leaped out the door after the Panda.

"Okay," Kasumi said, and then turned back to the table. Behind her, Haru padded into the room, carrying a fistful of chopsticks in his hands.

Miwako had to revise her earlier assessment. The Panda was far less innocuous than a kitten, and far less pleasant company, too. She made a mental note that the next time she wanted to visit the dojo, she would need to first confirm whether or not the Panda was going to be around before she committed herself.

"Hello. I'm glad you came," Akane said, drawing Miwako's attention away from the growing conflict in the yard and to where Akane was walking into the house. She was wearing a kogi, and the musky oder of exercise surrounded her.

"It's good to see you too," Miwako said to Akane. "Listen. Before lunch, I had a question. Do you remember that time when Ryouga and I turned into kids?"

"How could I forget? You two looked so cute," Akane said. A smile appeared on her face as she reminisced.

"What's this now?" Ukyo asked as she entered from the front door. Shampoo was right behind her. Both of them showed obvious signs of battle. Bits of batter were clumped in their bedraggled hair, and Ukyou was walking with the slightest hint of a limp. Despite that, both of them had the ambiance of satisfied triumph around them.

"Back in school, Ryouga brought some mushrooms that turned us both into kids," Miwako said. Behind her, the traditional sounds of battle drifted in from the backyard. The whumps of fist hitting fur, and the growls of exertion were a commonplace occurrence. Nobody in the room paid the fight any attention, even when it was punctuated with the crack of wood or the splash of water.

"You should have seen them. They got into all these fights. It was so adorable," Akane said.

Miwako had a far more negative opinion on the mushroom incident. While in the middle of the situation, when Tendo and the others had insisted on treating her like a child, when she had faced the prospect of needing to grow up a second time, when she had thought that the cure had been permanently lost, it had been anything but adorable. In hindsight, she could appreciate how it could appear more benign, maybe even entertaining, to an outsider. However, that didn't mean she had to agree with that assessment.

"Ranchan really was cute as a child," Ukyou said, likewise getting lost in reminiscence.

"Oh, I want to see it," Shampoo said.

"I think Nabiki-oneechan took some photos. We have to ask her," Akane said.

"Maybe later," Miwako said, eager to interrupt. She didn't remember Nabiki or anybody else taking photographs, but it had been a long time. She could already feel the embarrassment rising within her at the prospect. "First, though, I need to know. Did you keep any of those spores?"

* * *

Isolating Haibara proved to be much more difficult than could have been hoped for. The teenager-turned-child scientist always held herself aloof from the children all around her. By all rights, that should have made it easy for Conan to find a time to speak to her alone. However, that turned out to not be the case at all. From the moment Haibara arrived at school, one or more of the Detective Boys was always in close proximity to her.

Mitsuhiko was the main obstacle to overcome. When he wasn't directly talking to Haibara, he still remained close enough to her such that he would overhear any conversation which wasn't being suspiciously whispered. The only time Mitsuhiko hadn't been nearby was before class, and at that time Ayumi had been exchanging some gossip with Haibara.

That problem was compounded once classes started, as there was no way to talk to Haibara while under the watchful eye of Kobayashi. Lunch was always eaten as a group, which made any open discussion impossible. Then there were more classes.

The constant stream of near-misses, with Haibara being only a couple of meters away but protected by a surrounding cloud of witnesses, was enough to drive Conan to distraction. The only positive thing for the situation that Conan could think of was that it gave him a new insight into how difficult it was for a culprit to actually find an opportunity to perform a murder. No wonder so many of them made so many mistakes.

Conan was getting to the point of giving up and resorting to a phone call, with the included risk of being overheard by Ran and Mouri, when he finally spotted his chance. Genta and Mitsuhiko, eager that classes were finally over, had dashed ahead to switch their shoes, and Ayumi was nowhere in sight. Conan seized the moment and almost ran over to Haibara.

"Hey. What are you doing tonight?" Conan asked as quietly as he could without appearing overtly unusual to the casual observer.

"I'm going shopping. There is a new Fusae handbag that went on sale," Haibara said. She saw the intense, decidedly adult look on Conan's face, and then said in a much more quiet and somber voice, "Why do you ask?"

"Here. Take a look at this," Conan said. He handed over the slip of paper he had received from Satou.

On the surface, the note seemed benign. It was a simple message with almost no information within it. Satou had merely told Conan to meet her behind the school at 6:00 in the evening. It appeared to be a neutral and safe location, but that was a far from the truth. In actuality, by that hour, everybody would have gone home for supper, and the school would be an isolated arena with a low number of happenstance witnesses. It was the perfect place for illicit and dangerous activities to occur.

Haibara only barely glanced at the page before saying, "I thought you said she wasn't after you. What does she want?" She fingered her new haircut as she spoke. The bowl cut had been trimmed to straighten the uneven bits and to create as much of a style as could be hoped for, but it still looked terrible. It would remain horribly bad for several months until her hair regained enough length to style in a more fashionable manner. In the meantime, it remained a sharp reminder in every mirror and reflective surface, just like Conan's own buzz cut was.

"I don't know. I think I need to go see what she wants," Conan said. And then he waited. If Conan outright asked, then Haibara would certainly assist, but he still hoped that she would volunteer on her own.

Haibara raised an eyebrow at Conan's response. She said, "It could be a trap."

"What else can I do? It's not like I could run away," Conan said. It was hard enough for a seventeen-year-old to simply disappear without a trace, hence his hiding as the impossible-to-believe Conan. It was even harder for a seven-year-old to do so. Moreover, even if Conan could leave, it would be all but impossible for him to convince Ran to likewise flee. If Satou meant him harm, then she could always attack him through her.

"What are you going to do about Ran-san?" Haibara asked.

"I'm planning to ask Agasa-hakasei to cover for me," Conan said. He still waited for Haibara to offer to help.

"Okay. Have fun," Haibara said as she slowly and deliberately walked away. Conan could almost feel the smugness behind her statement. She knew he had approached her for help; she just wanted to hear him say it.

If she wanted to have the feeling of superiority, he would let her have it. This was too important and there were too many unknowns to let his pride get the better of him. It was a lesson he had learned in Tropical Land, and his recent buzz cut had only reinforced that message. Conan quickly said, "Wait. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you also come?" He paused a second, biting back his pride. "Please."

Haibara stopped and turned back to face him. She put on a big show of being annoyed at the request. She might even have been annoyed in truth, but it was more likely she was just stringing him along and trying to make him sweat. However, Conan wasn't taken in by her act. Haibara might have acted aloof, but when it came right down to it, she was very reliable.

Eventually, Haibara gave a sigh and said, "Okay, fine. Where do you want to meet?"

"No meeting," Conan said. "You and Agasa-hakasei should come on your own and stay out of sight. I don't want to accidentally give you away when I show up."

"Very well. I'll come, but you'll need to ask Agasa-hakasei yourself," Haibara said.

Conan readily agreed. He already needed to get Agasa's help in order to get an excuse to skip dinner with Ran. This was a far larger request than he typically asked for, but Agasa had never failed to assist in the past. Conan predicted no problems, even considering the implicit risk in the task.

Ayumi poked her head in from the classroom door, and then quickly walked over. She asked, "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing too special. He was just telling me how he was going to buy me a new Fusae handbag," Haibara said. She gave a pointed look to Conan.

"What? Wow. What are you going to get me, Conan-kun? I want a Fufe handbag, too," Ayumi said.

Haibara didn't even bother hiding the look of mischievous triumph on her face as she left Conan behind to face the demanding young girl.

* * *

Conan had nothing to distract him from his constant questioning and re-questioning of why Satou had wanted to meet him. He knew he didn't have enough information to even venture the beginnings of a deduction, but that didn't stop him from constantly turning the few pieces of knowledge he did have over and over in his head.

It shouldn't have been anything that bad. Satou was a police detective, and that stood as testimony to her integrity and honor. On the other hand, Conan could count the number of corrupt police officers he had exposed throughout the years. He had even found a murderer amongst their ranks once. He had no desire to become a victim to a heretofore undiscovered second one.

Conan paused to check his equipment for what felt like the hundredth time in the last minute alone. His glasses were active and transmitting his location. His shoes had a full charge. His watch was loaded and primed to shoot.

It was a minute before 6:00, and he was as ready as he could be.

The entire tenor of the school had changed. During the day, it was full of people. Students ran around playing, eating, ignoring, exploring, bullying, learning, fighting, and generally living the chaotic life of children. Teachers were ever-present, doing their utmost to encourage the positives and discourage the negatives of that life of children while simultaneously trying their best to ensure that the children didn't get into too much trouble. It was impossible to avoid the sheer humanity throughout the grounds.

Now, after hours and in the middle of suppertime, the grounds were entirely different. It was easy to see how the rumors that the school was haunted could spread so quickly among the imaginative and impressionable children. All of the lights were dark, which made the building seem like a hollow and abandoned shell of its normal self. The sounds of cars, so numerous throughout Tokyo, could only quietly be heard past the trees. None of the pedestrians could be seen at all. The carelessly-manicured fields and casually-cleaned grounds felt like it had been plucked from the heart of Tokyo and transported to one of any number of quiet and sparsely populated towns in rural Japan.

As Conan walked, he casually glanced around to see if he could spot where Agasa and Haibara were hiding. He was sure they were present; the nearby yellow Volkswagen Beetle's license plate proved it was Agasa's car that had parked a block away. However, Conan couldn't see either of them in any of the trees, hedges, or windows scattered throughout the grounds. He intentionally avoided searching too hard, though. He had asked them to arrive separately for a reason, and much of the strategic advantage of their surprise presence would be ruined if it was not actually a surprise.

What Conan did see was Satou. She was leaning with her back against a tree on the far side of the soccer field, looking every bit as tense as Conan himself felt. Her head was continually searching around, and she occasionally shifted her position. She gave the distinct impression of a bear-trap ready to snap.

Her location couldn't have been a mere coincidence. Her position had long sight lines to the common angles of approach and, if needed, Satou could quickly retreat into the cover of the small grove of trees behind her as well. It was natural to assume that a detective in Division 1 would be well acquainted with gunfights and how to approach them.

It appeared that Satou was alone, too. Conan couldn't see anybody else in the area. However, he knew better than to fully trust that assessment. He couldn't see Agasa or Haibara either, and he was sure they were present. There were countless potential hiding places which could hold a sniper or worse.

Still, Conan had known what he was getting into when he had embarked on this path. He hoped that his paranoia was unfounded, and if it wasn't, that Agasa and Haibara could prove to be the proverbial trump card against whatever might happen.

He took one more moment to steel himself, and then stepped boldly into the open, showing far more bravado than he actually felt.

Satou didn't react until he was halfway across the field. At that point, she stepped away from the tree and turned to face him directly. It wasn't until he had walked within a few meters, close enough that they could talk without screaming to the world at large, that she finally said, "So you're finally here. Okay, let's have it out. What do you want with me?"

"Me? You're the one who called me out here," Conan said. Even as he spoke, the implications of what Satou said struck him. If she didn't know why they were meeting, then why had she asked to meet? Had it really been Satou who had asked to meet him?

It suddenly seemed liked somebody might have set them both up. That would align well with his expectation that Satou was not a threat to him. It was certainly possible that somebody had sent her an invitation in his name, to bring them together for some undetermined agenda.

Conan took another rapid glance around the area, trying to spot anything out of place. It was a tricky maneuver, as he wasn't fully willing to commit himself to ignoring Satou.

"That's right," Satou said. The confirmation did much to console Conan. It let him refocus on Satou again, but he did still keep a minor eye out for any unexpected interlopers. "Only because you've been hiding yourself and doing whatever it is you've been doing. I don't have the time or the patience to deal with this kind of garbage anymore, so out with it. So what do you want with me? Was it a stolen artifact? Fiance I've never heard of? What is it this time?"

Another fiance. The unusual accusation echoed the constant comments from his exploratory visit to Nerima, and it supported his deductions that Satou had grown up in there. It was also a reminder of Conan's savaging at the hands of those same inhabitants of Nerima.

Thus far Satou had shown none of the casual violence so common to the locals of Nerima. However, Conan hadn't had that many personal encounters with the policewoman, and he wanted to take no chances. He quickly said, "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I don't have any promises or anything else." Thinking back to the other irrational accusations he constantly received, he quickly added, "I'm not a martial artist or anything. I'm not looking for a fight."

Satou continued to glare at Conan. She asked, "Then why were you going around Nerima asking about me? Don't even try to tell me you picked that haircut for yourself."

In retrospect, Conan should have considered that the people who knew Satou might contact her directly after he had gone around asking about her. He should have prepared for this eventuality, but he hadn't. Bereft of any other plan, he decided to simply tell her the truth. He saw no harm in it.

As cautiously as if Satou were bomb primed and ready to explode, he said, "I admit it. I did. I was curious. You seemed... different than everybody else. I'm a detective, and we're supposed to investigate mysteries, right?" He tried to speak with the childish naivety that Genta or Mitsuhiko would.

"A detective. You went to Nerima because you're a detective? You went around asking about me because you're a detective?" Satou asked. She then started to laugh. It had a far more natural timbre to it, as compared to the brassy and forced voice Satou always used. "Well, why not? It makes as much sense as anything else. That's a relief." She relaxed her body and the glare on her face finally vanished. "I was worried you were after me because I was somehow the one who turned you into a kid."

Conan's blood froze. He automatically tensed up, although he forced himself to relax and try to act naturally. In as innocent a voice as he could muster, he said, "What are you talking about? I wasn't turned into a kid. I've always been a kid."

"You've always been a kid? So you aren't Shinichi Kudo, teenage detective, who happened to disappear a few months ago the same time as Conan Edowaga enrolled in school over there?" Satou asked, gesturing with her head at the building across the field.

It was all Conan could do to keep from immediately fleeing his accuser and the scene as a whole. It had happened again. Somebody had connected him to Shinichi. It was his second worst fear, surpassed only by the dread that somebody in the Black Organization would make that same connection. The worry was that the former could easily develop into the latter.

"I don't know anything about that," Conan said. When in doubt, deny. It never ceased to surprise him how frequently criminals admitted to things when confronted.

"Okay. I guess you wouldn't be interested in a cure then. Never mind," Satou said. She negligently waved her hand. The flippant gesture didn't meet her eyes, which pierced Conan just as sharply as any of Haibara's pointed gazes ever had.

Conan's blood froze for the second time in as many minutes. He exclaimed in surprise, "A cure?"

He then instantly covered his traitorous mouth with his hands. He had not meant to give himself away so obviously, let alone so loudly. If there was anybody in a 50-meter radius, they must have heard his shout in the quiet evening air.

Despite his obvious misstep, Satou still feigned not noticing. She said, "Yeah. I thought you were him and were after me for turning you into a kid or something. Shinichi-kun's got a good enough reputation that I wouldn't feel too bad about helping him out anyway. But, seeing how you aren't Shinichi-kun, I guess you don't really care." Satou gave a shrug, and then turned to walk away. It was a slow, deliberate walk, not unlike how Haibara had reacted when Conan had asked for help back in school. Satou was deliberately taunting him.

Conan thought quickly. Of all the things which had teased the edges of his speculation when he had received the invitation from Satou, the idea of a cure had never even pretended to exist. The possibility that he could be normal again. The possibility that he could stop wasting his life in the tedious classes of Kobayashi. The possibility for Ran to stop crying herself to sleep over the missing "Shinichi." The possibility Conan could actually admit his feelings to her in a way other than as his "neechan."

On the other hand, the fear from before remained. Even if Satou herself wasn't herself a threat, the more people who knew about his condition, the worse it was. Already there was Agasa, Hattori, and most recently Haibara. Each person who learned the secret meant one more person who could spoil it, even if just by accident. Agasa had already done so once, with Haibara. All it would take was one false word overheard in a wrong place to bring the Black Organization back to finish what they had started. It wasn't only that, too. Telling Satou about them put her life in danger as well. The Black Organization wasn't a group to leave behind witnesses.

The hope versus the fear. It was an impossible decision to make in a matter of seconds. There was no way to weigh all of the implications of each option against the other.

"Wait," Conan said.

Satou stopped her slow walk and turned around. Her eyebrows were raised at Conan in a look of curious expectation.

Conan quickly ran over to Satou. Once he was close enough, he asked in a hushed voice, "Let's say that were true. What is this cure?"

Satou's look of expectation crashed down to one of disappointment. She said, "Really? Look. If you don't want to tell me anything, then don't, but I'm not going to play games of 'let's pretend' and 'a friend of mine had this happen to him.' Either tell me what's really going on, or don't. It's your decision."

The woman's rude confrontation took Conan aback. It was far more polite for people to make allusions and indirect references rather than to directly challenge somebody. He couldn't remember the last time a man had directly confronted him like this, let alone a woman doing so.

Satou's statement also forced another choice upon Conan. There was no real safety in the hypothetical situation he had presented, as anybody could easily read it as a confession that Satou's accusation was correct. However, it still somehow felt safer to hide behind hypothetical statements than outright telling the truth. Satou wasn't even allowing him that polite fiction. He had to decide if he really wanted to risk everything for the prospect of a potential cure.

Conan came to a decision. Thus far, both of the people he had told the truth to had proved to become tremendous allies, as had Haibara. Having somebody in the police he could go to for assistance would be invaluable, as evidenced by his own experiences trying to investigate Satou herself. He only hoped that this newest data point wouldn't ruin the trend.

"Fine," Conan said in the barest of whispers, so quiet that he wasn't even sure that Satou could hear him. "Fine, you're right. I am Shinichi Kudo."

"Okay then," Satou said. She knelt down and spoke in a low voice which matched Conan's. "So... what's your story?"

And Conan repeated his story. The trip to Tropical Land. The beheading there. Seeing the two men in black, the suitcase of money for a roll of film, and the undetectable poison. It was the third time he had ever told it to anybody, and the telling became no easier over time. There was still the gut-wrenching fear and oppressive sense that he was somehow making a terrible mistake. This was helped in no way by Satou's inscrutable stare as he concluded his story.

Satou paused for several seconds, and then said, "So... you mean to tell me that there's this huge secret organization going around who wears wears black clothes and does evil criminal activity?" She reached into her shirt, her hand disappearing into a cleverly hidden pocket. She pulled out a small notebook and pen, and asked, "Where did you say this happened? Tropical Land? Have you reported this to anybody?"

"No, you can't," Conan said, making a grab for the notebook. Satou twisted it away from his lunge, but his actions had still managed to make her stop her writing and look at him instead. "These people are dangerous. If you cross them, you just disappear."

Satou met Conan's statement with a scowl. She said, "Don't underestimate the police. I know you're some kind of super-genius detective or something, but we're pretty good, too. We can handle it."

"No, you can't. They're more dangerous than the yakuza, and they've got spies everywhere," Conan said. He thought about how to convey the unprecedented ruthlessness and paranoia that he had discovered in his very few encounters with the Black Organization. "You know that big bank robbery a few months ago, where the police said Akemi-san committed suicide? That was them. They did the bomb on the bullet train, too. And that big fire in the pharmaceutical company we just had, that was also them. They're different than anybody you've faced before."

Satou met Conan's earnest warnings with another inscrutable stare. She held it for a few seconds, before hesitantly saying, "Well, you know more about them than I do, but if you don't want us investigating them, then what's your plan? We can't just let them get away with it all."

"I'm gathering information. Once I know more about them, I'll know what to do about them," Conan said. That was the theory, at least. The more he learned about his adversaries, the less sanguine he felt about it. However, it was hard to imagine how acting in ignorance could possibly be better than acting in knowledge.

"Okay. Well, if you ever need anything from me, let me know," Satou said. She climbed back to her feet.

"Wait," Conan said quickly, louder than he had intended. He tried to quell his worry, and asked in a more normal voice, "What about that cure?"

"Oh, right. I forgot. Here," Satou said. She handed over a small paper envelope.

Conan took it, and asked, "What is it?"

"They're spores, for mushrooms. If you grow them, you'll be back to your normal age in no time," Satou said.

Conan looked at the parcel, skepticism dripping from his gaze. He didn't see how mushrooms could be related to anything at all, let alone to the mysterious poison which had shrunk him into a child. He asked, "How do they work?"

"You just eat them. They turn you into different ages based on how long they are. Each centimeter equals a year, so for you, that'd be seventeen centimeters," Satou said. She spoke without a hint of mirth or humor in her voice. This was despite the absurdity of what she was saying.

"Okay, but how do they work?" Conan asked. He was beginning to become worried about what he had gotten himself into.

"Magic," Satou said.

"What?" Conan asked. There was no questioning that the inhabitants of Nerima he had met had had the touch of insanity to them. He feared he might have entrusted his fate to a madwoman.

"Magic," Satou said again, this time with a shrug.

Conan's fear transformed, gaining a hint of anger to it. He disliked being treated as a naive child, and it was only more infuriating given he had just confessed the truth of his age to Satou. Somebody like Ayumi or Genta would just accept such a simple non-answer, but Conan was decidedly more sophisticated than that. He said, "You really expect me to believe it's magic? I'm not just some kid. There's no such thing as magic."

"Look. I don't know how it works. All I know is that when I ate some small ones, it turned me into kid, and when I ate some big ones, I grew up again, about one year per centimeter of length," Miwako said.

"Then what's the catch?" Conan asked. It sounded too good to be true, a mushroom suddenly appearing out of nowhere as a cure for all of his problems. It couldn't be that easy.

"Catch? The catch is you just need to promise to marry my great-granddaughter," Satou said. She then broke out into an abrupt bout of laughter. The unexpected sound echoed loudly in Conan's ears.

"Great-granddaughter? What?" Conan asked. He was sure he had misheard Satou.

"I always wanted to say that," Satou managed to say as her laughter trailed to an end. "I'm joking. I'm joking. There's no catch. Consider it repayment for the help you've given to the police. See you around, Detective Conan."

Satou turned and walked away, leaving Conan staring at the paper pouch in his hands. It could be a trap, but it would have been the most obscure one he had ever experienced. If Satou had meant to do him harm, she had already had ample opportunity to try. It wasn't as if any special technology could have been hidden in the thin paper, either. It was hard to take anything Satou had said in any way other than as the earnest truth.

On the other hand, it was "magic." Conan found it difficult to accept that, too. There was simply no such thing. There were the stage tricks magicians used to make things seemingly appear or disappear at a whim. There was the meticulous planning that phantom thieves did to accomplish the seemingly impossible, such as Kaito Kid routinely demonstrated in his unstoppable crime spree. However, actual magic, the kind that Genta and the others liked to imagine was real, was different. The idea that a "magic" cure to his problems had simply fallen into his proverbial lap was ludicrous.

Upon further reflection, he wasn't even sure that it was a cure to his problems, either. Assuming that Satou was in fact correct and that growing a 17-centimeter long mushroom would somehow restore Conan to his natural form, that was far from bringing his life back to normal. Even if it cured him of his physical affliction, but it would do nothing about the Black Organization.

Conan was still staring at the packet of mushroom spores when Agasa and Haibara approached him five minutes later.

"It looked like you two had fun," Haibara said when she drew close. "What's that?"

"I'm not sure. Satou-keibu said it would turn me 17-years old again," Conan said. He handed the envelope to Haibara to take a look.

Haibara opened the envelope, took a look at the black powder inside, and asked, "How's it work?"

"Magic," Conan said. Haibara and Agasa both gave him equally skeptical looks. Conan met their gazes. "No, really. She said it was magic."

"There's no such thing as magic, just phenomena we haven't yet characterized," Haibara said. She closed the paper package and handed it back to Conan.

"I know that," Conan said. He still used particular care in taking the envelope from Haibara and placing it into one of his pockets. There was no reason to be stubborn or shortsighted about it. Even if it wasn't magic, it could still be a cure. A phenomena wasn't useless just because it was unknown.

"So, what are you going to do, then?" Haibara asked.

It was a surprisingly difficult question. Conan had never really thought about it before. He had had no choice in the matter, which had made the entire question pointless. The arrival of a supposed cure abruptly changed that, and it forced the dilemma to the forefront of Conan's mind.

Conan had never expected it to be a dilemma at all. He had always assumed his being turned into a child was a wicked curse. Back when he had first been shrunk, Conan had been desperate to resume his teenage life, and if he had suddenly woken up one day in his teenage body, he would have celebrated it without a second thought. Now that he had had several months to learn more about the Black Organization, as well as actually live his life as Conan, he wasn't sure anymore. The fear Conan had of the Black Organization making the connection between Conan and Shinichi paled in comparison to the dangers he would face if Shinichi himself were to reappear not-dead. If he were to start making a name for himself, even something as simple as a small article in a local newspaper saying how the long-missing high school detective had returned to school, then Haibara's attempts at documenting Shinichi's death would quickly be exposed as the lie it was. It wasn't hard to imagine what would happen after that.

In actuality, his transformation could have been a blessing in disguise. Haibara certainly thought of hers that way.

There was the question of what to tell Ran, too. Would he tell her anything? How would she react?

Now that he was faced with the prospects of a cure, he found himself surprisingly indecisive. There were too many factors to think about and balance against each other. There was the danger the Black Organization represented. There was his falling behind in his actual studies while ironically being bored on a daily basis in classes with Kobayaishi. There were the Detective Boys. There were Ran's feelings to consider. There were his own feelings as well.

On the other hand, Satou's description of the mushrooms did suggest that no decision he made had to be a permanent one. Eating a small mushroom was just as easy as eating a large one. Maybe he didn't need to fully commit to a decision yet.

In the meantime, he did know at least one thing he wanted to do.

"I think I'm going to make some reservations at the Bird's Eye View Restaurant."

* * *

Omake:

There were no impossible locked doors, no "helpful suggestions" from members of the National Diet, no unidentified bodies, and no unexplained evidence. It was more a case of paperwork and process than of a mystery to solve. It was so straightforward that Megure felt comfortable assigning it to Miwako, with only Takagi as her support. Nevertheless, Miwako was more than happy to accept the case. Having a respite from the constant stream of inscrutable questions in baffling mystery after baffling mystery was a nice break.

The victim, Masami Muranishi, had been found strangled by some audio-visual cables. What made the case easy, though, was that it was obvious that there was only one possible culprit who could have performed the homicide. The victim had been found in a locked room with her subordinate, Higashida. He was obviously the culprit.

Regardless, Miwako and Takagi still needed to confirm all the basic details which would be required for a successful prosecution. They took formal witness statements confirming that Higashida had been seen both entering and exiting the apartment. Likewise they inspected the home for any alternative entrances, and checked the locks for any tool marks and signs of tampering.

Once Miwako had gathered enough proof that she was confident that the prosecutor and court would be satisfied, it was a simple matter to arrest Higashida and take him back to the station for detainment and processing.

That was when things became complicated. It was the first real hurdle in the case, although ironically it had nothing to do with either the homicide or the subsequent investigation thereof. During the drive back to the station, Miwako had stopped at a traffic light. While waiting for the light to turn green, a bellowing voice shouted loud enough to carry through the walls of the police car, "How are you going to take responsibility, eh?!"

On the side of the road was a truck with a torn fender. Beside it was a mangled motorcycle. Shattered glass was everywhere. There had undoubtedly been a collision. It had been years since Miwako had worked in the Traffic Bureau, but she still automatically analyzed the scene. An illegal left turn, a moment of inattention, and they had hit. It had been an exceptionally lucky collision, too, seeing how the motorcycle driver had escaped with nothing more than some torn trousers. The only real causalities from the impact were the vehicles themselves.

"Me take responsibility!?" the other man shouted back, just as loud as the first man. He picked the motorcycle driver up by his leather jacket and shouted at him. "You're the one who hit me! How are you going to take responsibility?!"

"Why you!" the first man answered. He reared back and punched the second man in his face. The bad angle prevented it from doing much more than bruise, but it did succeed in forcing the man to let him go. That did nothing to end the confrontation, though. The second man retaliated with a sloppy kick which barely nicked the first man's leg, and then the two of them were engaged in an outright brawl.

"Watch Higashida-san," Miwako ordered Takagi. She heard his half-stammered acknowledgment as she flicked on the police lights of her car and then dashed outside. It was the job of a police officer to maintain the peace, and it was the part of her job she most enjoyed.

The two men might have outweighed her by a hundred kilograms, but they were still easy to subdue. Neither of them showed any signs of formal training, and both of them were distracted. They also seemed more interested in beating the other into submission than they were in reacting to an interloper. It was a simple matter to shove the first man back, grab the second man in a submission hold, and then bark out a threatening order to freeze the first man in his place.

After holding them apart for a few seconds, their tempers finally cooled down enough that Miwako could release the second man. She then gathered both of their identities and their conflicting testimonies on what had happened. She wrote it all down in her notebook, along with some notes of what she had seen, the brief fight, and her own actions. All of it would be needed for the official report.

The whole encounter from start to finish had taken about five minutes to complete. Throughout it, Miwako was reminded of her old life in the Traffic Bureau. If it had all been things like this, rather than the more common and tedious work there, such as slowly walking down roads with a stick of chalk to mark tires, she might never have left it.

Once everything had been settled, Miwako returned back to her waiting car. Takagi was watching her with an expression of awe. He said, "That was incredible."

"It was noth... where did Higashida-san go?" Miwako asked. The empty seat in the back of the car was as conspicuous as a movie without sound.

"Higashida-san?" Takagi asked. He looked behind him, through the empty air, out the open door, and then shouted, "Where'd he go?"

Miwako frowned at the unreliability of her partner, but said nothing. There was something more important to do. She whipped her head around in frantic search, and caught sight of the fleeing criminal. She shouted, "He's running away! After him!" She didn't wait for Takagi to climb out of the car, instead immediately following her own instructions and giving chase.

Higashida ran through the street, and Miwako followed right behind him. He had a substantial head start, but every step brought her a little bit closer. Catching him was only a matter of time.

After a quick glance behind him, Higashida changed tactics. He dodged to the side of the road and ran towards a rundown building there. He charged at the entrance, and only barely slowed down as he barged in through the door.

Four seconds later, Miwako slammed open the same door just as abruptly. Fragments of broken glass and fallen plaster cracked below her feet as she continued the chase indoors.

The small hallways amplified the effects of Higashida's short lead. The twists and turns meant that even a few meters would be enough to cause Miwako to lose sight. The few seconds which separated them felt like a full city block. Already Miwako only saw a glimpse of the tail end of his foot, and she forced herself to sprint even harder in an attempt to catch him before he escaped.

A rapidly closing door revealed the latest turn Higashida took in an attempt to lose her. She shouldered it open again, gun at the ready, and shouted, "Freeze!"

Inside the room was Higashida, as Miwako had expected. Less expected were the five children. Miwako didn't pay them attention, though. Much more important was handling the criminal.

"Hands up! Get on the ground!" Miwako shouted, pointing the gun threateningly.

Higashida followed neither of her instructions. He instead grabbed a young girl and clutched her against his chest as a hostage. It was more than slightly reminiscent of Miwako's recent parade hostage case.

"Don't come any closer," Higashida said. He slowly backed away.

"Conan-kun!" the girl called out in terror. The name caused Miwako to flick a glance at the boy to whom the girl had called out. It revealed another coincidence with the parade hostage case. The children in the room were the same five children involved in that case as well. The buzz cuts and bowl cuts they now had had managed to hide their identity enough such that Miwako's distracted mind had missed the connection at first.

Higashida continued to hold Ayumi to his chest as a shield as he moved towards the back of the room and the door there. Miwako couldn't do anything to stop him as long as he held Ayumi hostage. He continued to back away, and quickly escaped.

Miwako mentally swore as she resumed the chase once again. She wasn't sure what she was going to do now that Higashida had a hostage, but standing paralyzed in indecision while the culprit escaped was clearly not going to help. She threw open the door Higashida had just left through, saw the stairs behind it, and started to climb.

The quick patter of feet behind her caused her to glance behind. She saw Conan joining in giving chase up the stairs just below her. Miwako paid him little attention, instead focusing on vaulting up the hundreds of steps in front of her as quickly as possible.

Half-way up the stairs, Miwako saw Ayumi. The girl was a welcome sight to see. Higashida was nowhere to be found, and the removal of the hostage dramatically simplified the problem of how to handle the situation.

Ayumi directed Miwako to the roof, which was all the encouragement she needed to redouble her speed and leap up the staircase in pursuit. She reached the roof seconds later, slamming open yet another door.

The rooftop was as ragged the rest of the building. The protective fence surrounding the edge of the roof had deteriorated to the point that it now had huge gaps, leaving a small concrete ledge as the only remaining protection against a careless fall. Higashida was just finishing crossing over a ladder which acted as an unstable makeshift bridge over to a neighboring building.

"Don't you dare," Miwako said under her breath as she ran after him. If nothing else, she had to credit Higashida's bravery in willing to risk his life to escape. The ladder was not secured in any way, and it slightly teetered as he jumped off of it onto the neighboring roof.

Miwako could have tried crossing the ladder in pursuit, but such an action would have been incredibly foolish. It would have been all too easy for Higashida to push the ladder off while she was half-way across. He had already strangled a woman, and if anything, shoving a second person to the concrete below was a much easier act to perform.

Instead, Miwako took the more direct path. She continued her chase, sprinting to the edge of the roof as if the gaping void below did not exist at all. When she reached the protective ledge, she took a large step up onto it, and used her momentum to take a flying leap through the air. Her jump was accompanied by a shout of challenging defiance. The cry caused Higashida to turn around, which made him an easy target for her to land on and knock over.

The two of them tumbled across the ground twice, whereupon Miwako pinned Higashida beneath her. She secured her handcuffs around his wrists, and said, "You're under arrest! Again!" She then pulled him back to his feet, keeping him safely in her grasp the entire time.

"Satou-san!" Takagi called out. He had reached the other roof from whence Miwako had leaped. It did him no credit that Conan had beaten him to the top of the stairs.

"I got him. I'll meet you back at the car," Miwako called back. There was no reason to risk crossing the gap a second time, especially with Higashida now in custody again.

"Okay!" Takagi called back. Behind him, the rest of the Detective Boys came trickling out of the door and onto the roof.

Miwako left them alone, instead turning away to begin the trip back to street level. She made sure to keep a firm grip on Higashida as she escorted him through the building they now stood upon. One escape was embarrassing enough, and she wanted to make sure that there would not be a second one.

Throughout the whole trip, Higashida kept insisting he was innocent. He said it as they traveled through the building, which was surprisingly just as empty and dilapidated as the one she had chased him through. He repeated it during the short walk out of the building. He continued to repeat it when they met Takagi at the car. He was still repeating it as they drove away, leaving Conan and the other children behind. He was yet still repeating it throughout his processing at the station.

It was with no small relief that Miwako left him with the uniformed officers and walked away. The non-stop repetition of the same 30 words got to be annoying after a while.

Miwako led Takagi back to the Division 1 offices. It was with a heavy heart she moved. The fun part was all over, and now it was time to prepare the paperwork. Even worse, she had no idea how she was going to explain Higashida's escape.

A good night's rest did little to help her figure out a good way to explain the major mistake she and Takagi had allowed to happen. The morning brought with it no inspiration, either. She finished the rest of her report, and as a consequence had run out of ways to stall. Miwako resigned herself to simply stating the truth in plain words. Hopefully, Higashida's quick recapture would mitigate most of the negative implications of allowing the escape in the first place.

Miwako's writing of her chase of Higashida was interrupted by a woman shouting through the halls, "You can't come back here!" While Miwako didn't recognize the voice, it did cause her to look for its source.

Down the hallway, Miwako saw Conan sprinting as fast as his small legs could carry him. Chasing just behind him was an office lady who was running as quickly as her pencil skirt would allow. It immediately put Miwako on high alert. She was always cautious of anybody running at her. Being approached by a hostile figure for unknown reasons was something which had happened far too often in her life to allow her to ever relax in such circumstances.

"I told you. I need to talk to Satou-keibu. It's important," Conan called out behind him. He weaved back and forth, trying to dodge the grasping arm of the office lady as he ran.

Eventually Conan's luck ran out. The woman caught one of his arms. From there, it was a simple matter of physics. There was no way for the boy to escape the grasp of the woman who was over twice his size, let alone to pull her forward.

"Satou-keibu," Conan called out from across the room, "You need to let Higashida-san go! He was framed!"

The comment sent a jolt through Miwako. The case against Higashida was as close to an open-and-shut case as could be imagined. There was only one suspect, and all the evidence agreed that he was the culprit. On the other hand, Conan had proven himself numerous times already, and the number of times he had been wrong could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. She was sure this was one of those rare times, but she couldn't dismiss the possibility that it wasn't. It was better to be the mistaken detective in charge of a chase than to send an innocent person to jail.

"Sorry to bother you, Satou-keibu," the office lady apologized.

"No, that's fine. Let him go," Miwako said. At the woman's questioning look, Miwako said, "I'll take care of him. You can go."

"If you're sure," the office lady said. The hesitation in her voice was only surpassed by the hesitation in her movements. In the end, though, she didn't seem to be willing to question a detective. Her hands pried opened millimeter by millimeter, and she walked away as slowly as a child being sent to her room at bedtime.

Miwako waited for the office lady to fully leave before turning to face Conan. She then went straight to the point, asking, "Okay, so what do you know?" Her voice carried no hint of the motherese cadence or pitch reserved for pets and children.

Conan answered back with equally serious solemnity. He said, "Higashida-san is innocent. He was framed."

"Then who did the framing?" Miwako asked.

"Kitagawa-san," Conan said, naming the person who had found the body. Conan then proceeded to explain how Kitagawa had murdered Muranishi and subsequently tricked Higashida into walking into the crime scene.

"Do you have any evidence?" Miwako asked.

"Yes. I have the testimony of the saleswomen who sold him the bed sheets and curtains. He bought them in a department store near the crime scene. He called in sick that day, which gave him the time to set up the murder. I found some blood stains on the cactus at the apartment, and if you test it, I'm sure it will match the cut on Kitagawa's thumb," Conan said.

Conan's time-line of events was contrived and implausible, but it was technically possible. Moreover, his past successes had given him enough credibility to at least consider his theory.

Miwako stared down at Conan intently, and was met by his equally serious stare upward. She asked him, "And you're sure of this. You swear? On your sacred honor?"

Conan hesitated not a moment before saying, "I'm sure of this. I swear."

"Okay," Miwako said. She came to an equally decisive decision. She pushed herself away from her desk and stood up. "It sounds like I got to take a trip to this store and Muranishi-san's apartment." She turned to address Takagi, who had just walked in to begin his day's work. "Takagi-san. Let's go. The Muranishi case is being re-opened."

"What?" Takagi asked, suddenly much more awake. "Why?"

"New evidence. Come on. Time's wasting," Miwako said, starting her brisk walk to where the cars were parked. If Conan was right, and if they hurried, she could have Higashida out of custody before noon. If he truly was not the culprit, the least she could do for him was to minimize his time in jail.

Takagi fell into step behind Miwako, matching the fast pace she was setting. Halfway down the hall, though, he glanced down behind him, then stopped and turned around. He grabbed the chasing Conan by his arm, and said, "Not this time. And just where do you think you're going?"

"That's fine. Conan-san is coming with us," Miwako called out behind her, not slowing down her fast walk. "Come on, time's wasting."

"Uhh... if you say so," Takagi said. He looked to be a mixture of confused and shocked, but he didn't say anything more. He let Conan go and ran for a few seconds to catch up to the hurrying Miwako. Conan chased just behind him.

With Conan's directions of where to go, the re-investigation proceeded quickly and smoothly. The trickiest part had been finding the salesclerk Conan had interviewed earlier. Miwako eventually found her, though, and took a statement that the woman had in fact sold some bed sheets and curtains to a man matching Kitagawa's description two days ago. It had been a memorable sale, seeing how rushed the man had seemed.

It was much easier to confirm Conan's claim of Kitagawa's absence from work on the day in question. The receptionist at Muranashi's company reacted with annoyance at their entrance, yelling at Conan to stop wasting her time. That tirade came to an abrupt end when Miwako showed her police identification and demanded to see Kitagawa's recent attendance record. The suddenly penitent receptionist quietly found a Human Resources officer after that, and Miwako received some photocopies in a matter of minutes.

After that, the group went to Muranishi's apartment. Conan pointed out the blood stains he had seen. Miwako took it into evidence. While she was there, she was also able to confirm that the curtains and much of the other decor of Muranishi's apartment was apparently new, and it was remarkably similar to Higashida's apartment.

It wasn't the strongest set of evidence Miwako had ever assembled, but it would be enough to arrest Kitagawa and acquire a blood sample.

By this point, Miwako was confident that Conan was correct. Her only problem was she didn't know how to account for the sudden change in focus in the investigation, and the new revelations that change of focus had revealed. If Megure asked her what had happened, she had no idea what to tell him.

End Omake.

* * *

Author's Notes:

The first, and possible the most important thing to note, is the invaluable contribution of JadeDragonHawk in prereading this story. I've lost track of the number of corrections and improvement which I received over the months from them, and it is without a doubt that this story would have been far inferior without their help.

As for the story itself, so we have at least one answer to the question of when is a curse not a curse. When a person has a choice into the situation, it's hard to really characterize it as a curse. There are several other circumstances which would apply as well, as alluded to throughout the chapters of this story, but that was the one which I most had in mind when I had begun and had thought of the title.

This story began when I realized exactly how much similarity there is between the characters of Ranma Saotome and Miwako Sato. Naturally the tenor of the characters are very different, due in large part due to the equally different natures of the Ranma 1/2 and the Detective Conan universes. However, if one were to list out the main characteristics of the two characters on paper, there are numerous overlaps and very few contradictions. The story "Officer Sato" by Weebee was an additional bridge that led me to making that connection, although that is primarily due to the name, seeing how this story has a very different setting and plot than that story does. The final nudge came to me when I noticed that the publications dates of both series fit together in this odd set of coincidences.

I have a difficult time placing this story into a category. It seems to like to waver back and forth in several ways. It's kind of a mystery, but the goal isn't to keep the reader in suspense. It's somewhat similar to a "how catch'em" style mystery, although that doesn't exactly fit, either. One thing for sure, though, is that it evolved a great deal over the course of writing. I've somewhat lost track of all the permutations it's gone through, but I think it started out as "an excuse to explore the concept of Miwako Sato being Ranma Saotome," then morphed into "a mystery in which Miwako investigates and learns about Conan," then morphed again into "a dual investigation in which Miwako and Conan both learn about each other," before finally ending up in this final version. I'd definitely be curious as to how you would categorize this final version, now that you have finished reading it.

For better or worse, I didn't really get into a good exploration into the impacts of a substantially-stronger and somewhat supernatural Miwako Sato in the canon Detective Conan world. I like to imagine an action sequence from one of the canon Detective Conan stories, possibly one of the movies, with this different Miwako working with Conan. It could culminate with the capture of one of the members of the Black Organization. However, this would almost certainly make Miwako something of a Mary Sue, and that is part of the reason I hadn't explored it thus far. Much like "Sakura and the Scottish School of Magic," I intentionally tried to avoid overpowered characters, for both better and worse. I admit that I do love a well-written fix-fic, not to mention watching an overpowered character wreck havoc on canon with the brush of her hand. However, I think more often then not that they are poorly written, and I worry that if I were to have gone down that road, then it would rapidly have become tedious and annoying.

We shall see if I ever get inspired enough to write such a canon-breaking sequel in the future. In the meantime, I do hope you enjoyed this story. Thank you very much for reading it.

* * *

Last Update: August 9, 2018


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